


Time to Get Kinky

by raviolitheif



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Fingering, Aprons, Barebacking, Bathing/Washing, Biting, Blowjobs, Body Image, Body Worship, Breathplay, Bruises, But Not Bad Crying, Choking, Chubcree, Clothed Sex, Cock Piercing, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Crying, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Eating out, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Gunplay, Hanzo in Lingerie, Insecure Sex, Insecurity, Kinktober, Kitchen Sex, Lace Panties, Lazy Sex, Librarian Hanzo, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Modeling, More Crying, More Crying But It Still Isn't Bad, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Photography, Porn, Porn Video, Pornography, Prostate Massage, Public Sex, Restraint, Romantic Fluff, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Sweet, Tongue Piercings, Trans Hanzo Shimada, Trans Jesse McCree, Vibrators, Voyeurism, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 49,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raviolitheif/pseuds/raviolitheif
Summary: i have been convinced to join in on kinktober, so here, have my shame fics(((feel free to hit me up on tumblr @hanzo-saltmada for prompts/requests))))





	1. Long Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cawaiiey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cawaiiey/gifts).



> i think i am forever cursed to be three days behind
> 
> edit:IM TEN DAMN DAYS BEHIND LMAO FRICK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt 1: phone sex

It had been two weeks since McCree had left for his two-month-long mission, and Hanzo already couldn’t handle it. His hand was nowhere near as satisfying as Jesse’s, didn’t have the same rough callouses that caught on Hanzo’s skin in all the right places, the same all-encompassing warmth; and his hands weren’t even half as large. His toys weren’t cutting it either; they failed to offer the same dark waves of satisfaction without Jesse’s sinful voice guiding him, teasing him.

It had been two weeks since Hanzo had gotten to hear McCree for more than five minutes at a time, and now that Hanzo had him, he wasn't letting him go anywhere.

“I am glad to hear that the mission is going so well,” he said pleasantly, voice only slightly disinterested. “I am much happier to hear that you finally have the time to relax.”

“You an’ me both, sugar,” he replied, the sound of sheets shifting carrying through to the speaker of Hanzo’s phone. “Been a good hot second since I had a decent bed,” he muttered, obviously settling down for the night. “Can’t wait to get some actual shut eye.”

Hanzo couldn’t have that.

“Jesse,” he purred out, tone low and clearly suggestive. He knew he had caught the cowboy’s attention when he heard a slow and staticky intake of air.

“What’re you doin’, Han?” McCree, always prepared, had already slid his jeans off in case the conversation was headed where he thought it was.

“You know very well what I am trying to do,” came the velvety response, a sound suspiciously similar to that of a zipper being tugged down echoing faintly into Jesse’s slowly reddening ear.

“Well, shit, honey,” he breathed, exhale deep and inhale deeper. “Why didn’tcha say somethin’ sooner? We could’a gotten started ages ago,” he whispered, voice falling an octave.

“Perhaps I feel like drawing it out tonight,” Hanzo said teasingly, the suggestion dark and dripping with promise. “Maybe I feel like tormenting you, making you beg me for it as I drag it out of you.”

The shaky breath he received was well worth the wait. Hanzo shifted his phone as he toed his pants off and tossed them carelessly to the floor, prosthetic feet resting smoothly on their silky bed. It felt less large and lonely when he could talk to McCree like this.

“I have been thinking about this all day,” Hanzo said, tone open and absent minded. “Thinking of all the dirty little nothings I could say to work you up, how to make you whine for me, throb for me, even from where you are now.” The smirk was clear in Hanzo’s voice as the sound of him opening the cap to their lube trickled into Jesse’s ear. “I have been thinking of how this toy you got me is not near as good as you, Jesse, how it doesn’t reach as far as you do,” he said, voice tapering into a hiss as he slowly worked the large pastel dragon dildo Jesse had gotten for him into his already prepared hole.

The pitiful whine Jesse let out was something Hanzo had yearned for for _weeks._ It spurred him on, made him press more of the dildo inside himself.

“Fuck, baby,” came a small voice, accent thicker with his mounting arousal. “You usin’ it right now? Fuckin’ yourself with it good an’ slow? Bet you are, betcha already had yourself ready for it before you called me, fingered yourself open real pretty for me,” the volume of his voice fluctuated with his obvious excitement.

Hanzo closed his eyes and groaned, the needy sound hitching as he angled the dildo just right and brushed against his prostate. The moan that followed was something straight out of a porn film, and it turned him on almost much as it did McCree. He worked the dildo slowly, twisting it on every inward stroke. His hips rolled desperately, not moving fast enough for himself.

“There we go,” Jesse cooed, voice teasing. “Sing for me, sweetheart, let me hear those pretty noises I love so much,” he drawled, sweet as honey.

Hanzo’s breath caught as he imagined Jesse’s amber eyes peering at him from the plush chair they had set up in the corner of their shared quarters, sinful voice guiding him from the shadowy spot. He imagined Jesse watching his every movement, imagined the slick sound of his hand fisting his cock slowly. Soon, Hanzo _did_ hear the slow, wet sound of his husband touching himself, the lewd squelch of lube loud in the silences of their respective rooms. Hanzo moaned Jesse’s name quietly, eyes shut and brows pinched as he panted openly into the receiver.

“I bet you’re makin’ that face I love so much, the one where your eyes are closed real sweet like, but the rest’a you looks about ready to come on the spot,” Jesse murmured, inhaling deeply before he continued. “Betcha wanna fuck yourself real hard, go faster than that lil’ vibrator I gotcha ages ago. And you know what, angel? I’ll let you. Go faster, Han, lemme hear how bad I make you want me,” he urged, the plea almost innocent save for the words that it was accompanied by.

Hanzo listened. He rolled over and stuck his ass in the air, put the phone on speaker, and began to fuck himself in earnest. His voice could only moan Jesse’s name, the mantra slurring together into a barely decipherable cacophony of needy groans and pitiful moans. He was almost frantic, the wet sound of silicon fucking into heated flesh only muted by hurried Japanese and the faint rustle of sheets as Hanzo’s metal toes fought against them for purchase.

Jesse’s hooded amber eyes slid shut as he listened to the dirty sounds flowing into his ear. He bit his lip as he picked up his own pace, flesh hand bringing him to the throbbing mess Hanzo had claimed he’d make of him earlier. They were both moaning loudly, voices lost to pleasure, when Jesse spoke up.

“Come for me, Hanzo, shove it in as far as you can and fuckin’ _come for me, baby,”_ he rasped, voice completely wrecked.

Hanzo squeezed his eyes shut and rammed the dildo inside himself _hard,_  abusing his prostate as he shook almost violently. He came harder than he had in the last two weeks, ass spasming around the blue silicon and hands shaking enough that the dildo was pulled out with a loud ‘pop’, leaving him a shivering, gaping mess. Jesse’s name was the only thing on his fucked out mind.

The sheets had torn.

McCree came about a minute later, cursing up a storm and finally spilling up his own chest with Hanzo’s name on his lips like a whispered prayer. He panted heavily as he rode out his orgasm, milking himself until it became too much and he had to stop.

“Well, I’ll be,” he whispered, voice amazed and ruined.

“That was...” Hanzo finally said back after a few beats of breathy silence. His voice was absolutely destroyed. “That was very good,” he admitted.

“Yeah it was, darlin’,” he agreed, nodding his head even if Hanzo couldn’t see. “Maybe I should take these long missions more often, if this is what I’m gonna get each time,” he chuckled out, the shift of blankets being pulled up muted only by the musical sound of McCree’s laugh.

“Don’t you _dare,_ ” Hanzo warned. The threat was far less effective with his blissed out, sleepy sounding voice.

“I love you, Hanzo,” he crooned in a deep voice, just as tired.

“I love you too, Jesse,” he whispered, almost asleep.

“I’ll be seein’ you soon, honey,” Jesse slurred out, eyes already closed and breathing evening out.

The small smiles didn’t fall from either of their lips once that night.


	2. Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt 2: creampie

Their reunion was as touching to the other members of the team as it was kind of gross. They had managed to stay civil and decent for all of ten seconds before Hanzo was being furiously made out with, hands flying everywhere and hair getting pulled to bare necks to wandering teeth. Hanzo barely had time to breathe after their lips had parted before he was being dragged by the waist back to his and McCree’s shared quarters, a bright blush falling past his collar bones.

Genji wolf whistled until the pair couldn’t be seen any longer, and everyone was making gagging sounds as the group dispersed.

Hanzo pushed McCree into the door the second it closed, bodies clashing and mouths colliding. Moans were muted by lips and tongues, an occasional giggle falling from breathless voices when noses bumped or teeth clicked. They rutted against each other, McCree’s thick thigh shoved between Hanzo’s smaller ones. He hauled Hanzo up by his ass when things became too much, walking them back toward their shared bed and almost tossing the smaller man onto the soft mattress.

Jesse crawled over him and smiled devilishly, making Hanzo flush prettily. He leaned down and trailed wet kisses down the archer’s neck, pausing to bite down on his collarbone and earning a whine in return.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, Han,” he said on a husky exhale, warm breath flowing over Hanzo’s pink chest. “Was goin’ to go crazy if we stayed out on that mission any longer.”

As Hanzo opened his mouth to respond, Jesse snaked a hand down into his pants, a cool palm cupping his half hard dick and making him moan into the back of his own fist. Jesse smirked up at him, eyes bright in the low lighting of their room. Hanzo glared without venom before he sat up and shrugged off his top, the silky material cool against his heated skin.

McCree followed suit, and soon both men had removed their restrictive clothing. The mission had given Jesse quite a few new scars, a detail Hanzo would save for another night; one where he had more time to really take care of his cowboy. He surged up and caught Jesse in a tight hug, chests pressed flush together and mouths moving less furiously than before.

It had been a long two months.

The kiss was passionate and kind, tongues writhing together slowly and lovingly, lips searing as they moved with intent, warm hands cupping warmer cheeks and traveling down blushing necks. Hanzo slowly began to lie back, Jesse following with a smile as they settled into the plethora of plushy pillows. They were grinding sluggishly, hips hitching now and then when they rubbed against one another just right.

“Jesse, please,” Hanzo whined, hips swaying as McCree teased him with a slick and surprisingly warm metal finger. “It has been two months, do not make me wait a _second_ longer,” he hissed out, eyes flashing dangerously when Jesse dared to slow his ministrations.

Jesse chuckled and reached for the lube, slicking up three more fingers before he brought them back down and pressed one inside, going up to the knuckle immediately. Hanzo’s features quickly smoothed out, expression morphing to bliss as Jesse worked him.

One finger quickly became two, stretching and and scissoring, the occasional wet sound making Hanzo blush and look away. Jesse was patient, something Hanzo was secretly grateful for, the slow pace gentle and sweet. He added a third finger, smoothing the slight burn with soft kisses to his pecs, teeth coming out to make small marks all up and down his slowly heaving chest. Hanzo was like putty in his husband’s hands, flowing perfectly in time with each thrust of smooth metal fingers as they fucked into him lazily.

By the time Jesse had added a fourth finger, Hanzo was a right mess. Strong hands clutched at a titanium wrist, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth mechanisms beneath them, forcing the four fingers to go deeper inside. Jesse crooked them and hit Hanzo’s prostate with shocking accuracy, forcing his husband to moan loud enough that the cowboy almost felt bad for any passersby. The archer’s back bowed beautifully, hips angled down to get more delicious friction and chest jutting up in a beautiful display for Jesse. Countless curses fell from lips bruised by kisses in Hanzo’s native tongue, creating a symphony for Jesse’s ears only.

“Fuck! Fuck, Jesse, _enough_ , I’m too close,” he panted. His dark eyes had fallen to barely-open slivers, the deep blush on his cheeks defining his features elegantly as hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Jesse took pity on the man beneath him, slowly removing his hand from within Hanzo and slicking up his own cock instead.

“Sorry, Han,” he cooed, landing butterfly kisses all over Hanzo’s regal cheekbones and up the bridge of his nose. He smoothed both palms up Hanzo’s sides, cupping each of his pecs reverently before he nuzzled into them. Hanzo snorted as Jesse’s scruff tickled his chest, shoulders bouncing with the sound. Jesse froze and looked up, peering into Hanzo’s mirth-filled eyes as he continued to laugh out loud.

“What is it?” Hanzo asked, laughter slowly leaving his system. “Um,” he paused, brows furrowed and smile starting to fall. “Jesse?”

McCree snapped out of his daze, grinning toothily before tugging Hanzo into a tight hug.

“Sorry, sugar, I got distracted,” he mumbled into the center of Hanzo’s hairless chest. “Haven’t heard your beautiful laugh in so damn long,” he sighed, “almost forgot how gorgeous it was.”

Hanzo’s heart positively _soared_ at the compliment, scarlet hue quickly spreading and falling past his nipples. He bit at his knuckles and cast his eyes away, unable to respond to the sweet words in any other way. Jesse kissed his way up Hanzo’s chest and met his hand, turning it over to kiss a hot palm with smiling lips.

“You ready, angel?” Jesse said against Hanzo’s palm, kissing all over the soft skin and rough callouses.

“Yes,” came his throaty response. “However, I have a request to make,” he said, voice dripping with sin as he drew Jesse in with his cold metal calves. He leaned and pressed his lips to Jesse’s ear, breath hot against his skin.

“Do not pull out.”

McCree’s eyes grew wide and he nodded quickly, hands falling from the archer’s chest to his hips. He stared at Hanzo with smouldering half lidded amber eyes, hips pressing against his husband slowly and teasingly. He rubbed back and forth, the head of his cock catching every so often. Hanzo glared up at him and opened his mouth in protest.

“Jesse McCree, if you do not hurry up and fuck me right this instant, I will get up and find someone who w-” Hanzo was sharply cut off as Jesse snapped up into him, hips flush against Hanzo’s. He beamed down at the archer, eyes twinkling knowingly.

Hanzo let out an honest to god _scream_ as he was filled so suddenly and with so _much_ , hands clawing at the sheets and metal calves squeezing his hips even closer to his body. He bit his lip hard and squeezed his eyes shut, a look of pure ecstasy taking over his features. He hardly waited forty seconds before he rolled his hips in a small circle, signaling that it was okay to move.

Jesse didn’t go slowly. He pulled back almost as quickly as he had slammed in the first time, and set a fast pace that left no room for delicacy. He leaned over Hanzo and bit into one of his sensitive pecs, tongue laving heatedly over a perky nipple. Hanzo’s hands raked over Jesse’s back, leaving red lines in their wake before he settled for embracing McCree’s neck and holding on for dear life.

The pace grew almost punishing, the slap of skin on skin nearly as deafening as Hanzo’s constant string of moans. The room was overflowing with lewd sounds; wet squelches, the pop of lips as they left hickies behind, and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin.

Hanzo hissed when Jesse slowed down for some god awful reason, eyes squinting into slits challenging enough to make McCree speed up his idea. He quickly pulled Hanzo’s legs up, resting one heavy calf on each of his broad shoulders before plowing back into Hanzo’s greedy ass. The thrusts hit deeper and struck his prostate on almost every hit, the over sensitive gland sending a series of uncontrollable shudders through the smaller man’s body.

Hanzo’s hand flew to his own cock as Jesse sped up more, the rhythm impossibly fast. He began jerking himself in time with the brutal pace, euphoria coursing through his veins. They were both on the edge.

Jesse leaned down, thankful for Hanzo’s flexibility, and kissed him with all the affection he could muster, slamming in as deep and as hard as he could manage. He stopped then, hips rolling his heavy cock into Hanzo as he kissed the breath out of his lungs. The archer tensed and came on his stomach, hot white streaking up toward his chest. He clenched and spasmed sporadically, the tightness becoming too much for Jesse.

He came with a hissed exhale of Hanzo’s name, lips moving against his as he chanted Hanzo’s name like his whole existence depended on the man shaking in his arms. He pressed his forehead to Hanzo’s sweaty one, eyes unfocused in their awed stare at his perfect husbands face.

Searing heat filled Hanzo, and he smiled something filthy as he felt Jesse slowly seep out of him. He let Jesse pull out, come leaking from his puffy, gaping hole, and Hanzo felt satisfaction settle deep within his belly. Jesse was gone and back in no time, wiping Hanzo’s chest down and then his own before he tossed the used rag into their laundry pile.

Hanzo opened his arms wide, half lidded eyes beckoning for Jesse to join him. The cowboy crawled into bed with his dragon, head resting on a tattooed chest. Idle fingers carded through his damp hair, and soon they were lulled to sleep by the steady sounds of each other’s breathing.


	3. Violet & Scarlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i need more messy jesse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt 3: marked up

Jesse had been reduced to a writhing mess in the center of their big bed. Flesh and metal alike gripped silken sheets, muscles tensing periodically with each new wave of pleasure that rushed through his system. His mouth was running a mile a minute, whispered encouragements and moaned appreciation slurring together into an unintelligible variety of sounds that Hanzo couldn’t get enough of.

Hanzo’s mouth burned a path up McCree’s chest, a trail of lovely bruises left in his wake as he bit and sucked too many times for Jesse to count. The cowboy was quickly coming to regret egging Hanzo on, claiming he was sure that the archer couldn’t _possibly_ be good enough with his mouth to make him cum from teeth and lips alone.

He was so fucking wrong.

Hanzo, _evil_ , cocky Hanzo, hadn’t touched him anywhere with anything but his mouth, and had effectively broken Jesse down into a needy little shell of his usually pretty composed self. His hands rested infuriatingly close on both sides of Jesse’s wide hips, and he smirked every time McCree would try (and fail) to reach down and pump himself, relieve some of the ache from being denied any friction.

Jesse was downright ruined.

His neck was the canvas for a mural of various bruises and the indentations of teeth, violet and scarlet hues blossoming over the generous expanse of flushed tan skin. No mark was left without intention, because if Hanzo was anything, he was a perfectionist. Each hickey, each bite, was meant only to drag the sweetest of sounds out of Jesse, to give the most pleasure possible.

Jesse’s chest was no better off, a pathway of color weaving down from his collarbones to his navel. Hanzo licked and kissed his way down further, relishing in the hitches of breath as he came closer to Jesse’s drooling cock. He blew over it, hips rolling into the mattress as his lips ghosted over silky skin. The cowboy’s hips surged up in a desperate attempt at getting Hanzo’s mouth on him, but the archer scooted away before he could get close enough. Jesse choked back a needy whine, eyes glazed over as he stared heatedly at the man between his shaking thighs.

“Do you still doubt my skills?” Breathed the archer, inquisitive tone forcing a series of frantic head shaking from Jesse. The poor man had been rendered speechless, brain more focused on pleasure and breathing than on thoughts and words.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, smirking.

Hanzo stared into Jesse’s eyes deeply, dark irises half hidden behind seductively hooded lids, and touched his lips teasingly to Jesse’s straining shaft. The explosive moan he received made Hanzo throb in his pants, and his tongue lolled out to lick wet lines upward, generous drops of pre landing into the archer’s greedy mouth.

Jesse’s robotic hand clutched the sheets tightly, the fabric ripping beneath his smooth metal fingers as his flesh palm fell to Hanzo’s warm cheek.

“Honey, sweetheart, _please,"_  he begged, eyes teary with need. “Fuck! Fuck, Hanzo, _please._ I can’t anymore, baby, I can't! You were right, fuck, _please,_ ” he continued, voice destroyed and expression wrecked.

Hanzo took pity on the man shaking beneath his chest and wrapped his lips around the head of Jesse’s angry red cock. He closed his eyes in bliss and moaned around him when his flesh hand snaked into his hair and forced him down further, nose rubbing into unruly dark curls. He let Jesse fuck his mouth, his own hand reaching into his pants as he began to jerk himself off in time with McCree’s desperate rhythm.

Hanzo came first, pants growing sticky and dark with a tell-tale wet spot. He swallowed around Jesse, throat contracting around the intrusion, and soon he was swallowing mouthful after mouthful of the hot liquid.

He didn’t waste a drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this wasnt as long


	4. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 4: clothed sex/grinding

Muffled moans fell from shameless kiss swollen lips as hands fought with belts and sashes to meet heated skin. Frustration won over quickly, and deft fingers instead settled for tracing filthy pathways up chiseled abs, cool metal forcing a gasp from a regal mouth as they pinched at a sensitive nipple. Strong hands struggled to stay still, clutching dusty tan fabric in an iron grip and pulling it taut over broad shoulders.

“ _Jesse,_ ” cried a breathless voice, strained but aroused. “If you do not stop now, we will not make it to the bed,” Hanzo hissed, fingers tugging unruly brown locks back to meet a heated amber gaze.

McCree chuckled darkly and nodded his head in agreement. “‘Spose you’re right about that, sugar,” he said, exhaling sharply as their hips rolled together with poorly restrained strength.

He made no move to stop.

Neither did Hanzo.

They stood rutting on each other against the rickety old door of a sleazy abandoned hotel, Jesse’s back resting against the aged wood. They were only this desperate to be close to one another due to adrenaline, love, and a hint of fear. The mission they had been doing earlier -were still technically on- had ended with the both of them at gunpoint, defiant glares on both of their angry faces. They had only escaped by the tips of their beards, and such a close call warranted some reassuring touches and desperate kisses.

Their hips rolled and snapped, an ebb and flow of released tension and need. Butterfly kisses were peppered over every inch of Hanzo’s face and exposed chest, and he arched his back forward to press closer to those light and wandering lips. His hands carded through chocolate strands of wavy hair, knocking Jesse’s hat off his head with a quiet ‘thump.’

McCree slowly spun them until Hanzo was the one pressed against the rough old door, hitching one of his legs up and letting a heavy metal calf press into the small of his back. His left hand slid down Hanzo’s back and rested on his ass, kneeding the muscles with cool titanium fingers. His right trailed down Hanzo’s front, teasingly slow, before he palmed the obvious bulge in the archer’s pants.

Hanzo slapped a hand over his own mouth, biting into the skin to muffle the moan he’d have let out otherwise. Jesse leveled him with a look, amber eyes searing into deep brown ones, and slowly Hanzo dropped his hand. McCree nodded and continued palming Hanzo, deft fingers making quick work of ruining the shorter man.

Hanzo brought his other leg up over Jesse’s soft hips, arms coming to snake around wide shoulders, and soon they were grinding in a much better position. Jesse gripped Hanzo’s ass tightly in his hands, spreading his cheeks apart through the layers of fabric. He thrust his own hips up, clothed cock rolling against Hanzo’s ass to give both of them the muted sense that they were fucking.

Hanzo rolled down on every upward thrust, and he and Jesse moaned in unison. The archer bit down on Jesse’s neck, sucking a deep purple mark into the skin there until he felt he was satisfied. This spurred McCree on, made him grind faster and harder against Hanzo’s pants clad ass.

Their pace grew frantic and desperate, both men close to the edge. Jesse snaked a hand up and pulled Hanzo’s loose ponytail, baring his neck to him, and he bit and kissed the blushing flesh. That did it for Hanzo. He clutched Jesse’s dishevele hair in both hands, grip growing almost painful as he shook through his orgasm.

The reverent way Jesse name spilled from between Hanzo’s lips made the cowboy’s head spin, and soon he was coming in his pants, too. They rolled against each other slowly, gently, heads hazy with post-coital bliss. They breathed the same air for a little while until their lips met once more. The kiss was void of their previous desperation, all traces of fear and dire need gone, leaving only love behind. Their lips moved together until they couldn't tell who's were who's anymore, couldn't tell where Hanzo began or where Jesse ended.

Eventually the cooling sensation was too gross for Hanzo to handle and he parted from Jesse, metal toes touching the cheap linoleum floor once more.

"What a mess," he muttered, clearly displeased.

"We could always go commando," Jesse offered, already shucking his pants to take his underwear off.

Hanzo mulled it over in his head for a moment and decided quickly that while the idea of going commando was uncomfortable at best, the bare thought of running around with the cooling mess in his pants was far worse. 

They tossed their ruined undergarments behind them as they left the room, wet fabric making a sickening plopping sound as they fell together on the floor.

"We are  _never_ doing that again, Jesse," were the last words that the cheap hotel room would probably ever hear.

That is, until a cyborg and an omnic stumbled in not even two hours later, metal hands clinking together as they fumbled for purchase on smooth steel joints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, another short one x.x hope its okay (im trying real hard to catch up lmao)
> 
> also, i have a tumblr if youre interested, idk  
> raviolitheif.tumblr.com is my main  
> hanzo-saltmada.tumblr.com is my art/overwatch blog


	5. Let Him Weep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even strong men need to cry sometimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt 5: restraint  
> the music i listened to for this chapter was this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eUp1VYJ5_Vc

He hadn’t expected a ‘yes.’

When Jesse asked Hanzo to tie him up and treat him real nice like, tell him what he needed to hear, he had been fully prepared for Hanzo to blow him off, or sneer, or say something like _‘That’s weird, McCree,’_ or _‘What the fuck, McCree?’_ or even _‘Get out of my room, McCree, for fucks sake.’_ But an agreement? An agreement had never even crossed his mind.

Jesse sat, stunned, at the head of their large bed, bare chested but still wearing jeans. He watched in awe as Hanzo undid his hair; silky, long, grey-streaked strands falling gracefully over well muscled shoulders. He shrugged off his kyudo-gi, soft fabric falling into place around his waist as it caught on the sash at his hips. He set one knee on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath his weight as he crawled up toward the awed man. He cocked a brow down at him, eyes twinkling kindly.

“You are going to have to lift your arms for me if you want me to restrain you, Jesse,” he purred, wrapping both palms with his silken hair ribbon, pulling it taut in front of McCree’s face. It snapped Jesse into gear, and he raised his arms above his head obediently, wrists pressed together.

Hanzo straddled Jesse’s lap and leaned in to tie the muted gold ribbon around the cowboy’s wrists, the ghost of a chuckle moving the oaky strands of Jesse’s hair as he wrapped the cool material with a practiced ease. He gave one teasing roll of his hips against Jesse’s and a little peck of a kiss to restrained hands as he leaned back to admire his work.

Jesse sat tied to the highest the rung of the headboard, dull yellow silk a nice contrast to sun kissed tan skin as it held the cowboy in place. He motioned for Jesse to make a few experimental tugs, and nodded confidently when McCree was unable to move more than a few inches from his new spot.

“I must admit, when you asked about the strength of this,” he said, pulling at the ribbon to emphasize, “I had wholly believed you intended to use it on me.” He stroked the tie, the sensation of cool fabric being warmed before becoming cold again new to Jesse, who took in a shaky breath to calm himself. “But I think I like this even more. Seeing someone I love tied up in something so precious to me, already hard for me,” he cooed, rubbing a teasing palm into the bulge in the front of Jesse’s jeans. “Flushed and docile, for _me_ ,” he whispered as he rested his head on Jesse’s shoulder, words flowing directly into his blushing ear. “Yes, I believe I like it this way _far_ better.”

Only one word ran through Jesse’s mind: _need._ He had a burning need to give himself to Hanzo, let him take control. He needed to feel secure, safe, unable to be away from the archer. He needed the closeness, the warmth, the all-encompassing feeling the he belonged with Hanzo, _to_ Hanzo.

He _needed_ this.

“What is the safe word, my dear?” Hanzo sighed in question, breath tickling Jesse’s neck.

“Peach,” he replied, eyelids fluttering.

Hanzo nodded, smiling.

Warm hands explored a hairy chest, soothing the tension from strong muscles and sore bruises from old missions. He peppered Jesse’s torso with sweet kisses, gentle and kind, just how McCree had asked, and he melted beneath those angelic lips.

Hanzo knew what Jesse needed.

He slowly trailed his soft lips up, tongue licking lightly over hard nipples before continuing upward. Butterfly kisses found their way to the juncture of Jesse’s neck and shoulder, where they fluttered and tickled lightly at the warm skin there. One kiss fell harder than the rest, and the smile in it was pressed into his skin carefully.

The gentle pace was already proving to be too much for McCree, who had fat tears welling up in his amber eyes. He inhaled deeply, lips trembling, and closed his eyes. An ashamed flush fell to his neck, and he turned his head away.

“Jesse, my love, you are doing so well for me,” came a calm voice. “Always so good, so strong for me, for everyone,” Hanzo whispered, dark orbs focused on the hot tears spilling down a handsome face. “So kind and daring,” he added, fingers tracing red cheeks sweetly.

The tears spilled freely, but the safe word never came. Hanzo wrapped his fingers loosely around Jesse’s scruffy chin and guided his face back toward his own, chocolatey eyes warm when their gazes met. He leaned in and kissed McCree softly, a short gasp escaping quivering lips before they were covered. Jesse surged up into the kiss, whining when his hands were unable to reach out to embrace the archer. But he needed this, needed Hanzo to go at his own pace, so he let his arms go slack once more.

The kiss was passionate, but their mouths remained closed. There was no need to rush, no need for heat. Lips moved sluggishly, satin skin melding against chapped flesh. The tears didn’t stop, their heat seeping into Hanzo’s own cheeks, dripping down and turning the kiss salty, but Hanzo didn’t relent. He was the calm to Jesse’s internal storm, his strength at such a vulnerable time, the place for him to be safe, and he’d be damned if he let Jesse go right now.

“You are gorgeous, Jesse McCree,” he breathed out once their lips parted. “Absolutely beautiful. You are a wonderful, stunning man, and you treat me so perfectly. You do _so much_ for me,” he continued, the slight waver in his voice unnoticed. “And I am so, _so_ lucky that I have the high privilege of calling you mine,” he added, right hand resting against a pounding heart as he continued to palm the bulge in Jesse’s pants.

The pathetic sob that wrenched itself from out of Jesse’s throat as he rolled his hips upward broke Hanzo’s heart, and he kissed those searing tears away with apologetic lips. A choked hiccup bubbled out of Jesse’s wobbling lips as Hanzo slowly removed himself from his lap. The look of pure terror that flashed over McCree’s teary face made Hanzo immediately fall to the side of the bed to console him.

“Jesse, my sweet, sweet Jesse, I am not going anywhere,” he crooned, petting dark locks reassuringly. “I am only going to remove our pants, alright? Is that okay?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his words.

Jesse nodded enthusiastically, red-rimmed eyes brightening as they watched Hanzo shuck his clothes to the carpet. Prosthetic knees made the bed dip once more, springs creaking in distress at the re-added weight. He slowly undid Jesse’s gaudy belt, tossing it down atop the pile of clothes he’d left on the floor, and undid the button and zipper with great care. Hanzo tapped a soft hip, asking Jesse to lift himself, and soon the pants and underwear joined the pile on the ground.

Hanzo settled himself back down in Jesse’s warm lap, hairy thighs tickling smooth ones, and a tiny laugh erupted from the cowboy at the strange sensation. Their lips met once more, this time with open mouths. Tongues met but didn’t fight, instead mingling languidly and exploring tamely. A calloused hand dragged down past McCree’s belly to his drooling dick, wrapping the two of them together in a loose fist. He encouraged Jesse to roll his hips up into the hold, the pair rocking together unhurriedly.

“I love you, Jesse,” came Hanzo’s uneven voice, chin resting atop his cowboy’s head. “I love you so much. Everyone loves you, my dear, everyone knows that you are a good person, and that you only want the best for everyone.”

Smokey locks draped around McCree’s face, shielding him from anything and everything that was not Hanzo. The archer cradled Jesse’s head to his chest, soft pecs warm against tear-streaked cheeks. He felt so loved, so vital and necessary and _wanted,_ and it brought him over the edge, surprising them both. He came _hard,_ slick white ropes shooting up both of their chests. The shock of it tore a small yell from his vocal chords, and his eyebrows came together as the last of his hot tears fell away.

Hanzo was quick to follow, painting their chests an even milkier white as they rode out their intense orgasms. Somewhere in his mind Hanzo remembered that Jesse was still tied up, so he reached a sluggish hand out and undid the knot, mustard colored silk falling down with heavy arms not far behind.

Hanzo was gone and back before Jesse could even remember being untied, wiping their sticky chests down with a warm, damp towel. He tossed it into the growing laundry pile and tugged McCree down further into the bed, pulling heavy blankets up over them.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Jesse whispered into dark hair.

“Of course, my love,” Hanzo replied, sleepy eyes blinking closed as he rested his face against a soft chest.

Sleep came quickly, and neither of them had bad dreams that night.


	6. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 6: distracted

Hanzo sat on a comfortable wooden stool, well worn with age and plenty of use, doing work at his desk in the room he secretly shared with McCree. Jesse was sitting behind him, flesh and metal hands rubbing his shoulders while he wrote because he knew how tense Hanzo could get after a long night of writing reports. He pressed fleeting kisses to the skin whenever Hanzo would wince at the break-up of a knot in his muscles, soothing away the pain.

The scene was so peaceful and relaxing that Hanzo was fully unprepared for “What’s Going On?” to start playing at full blast from his phone. He jumped in his seat, eyes wide as he fell against Jesse’s chest. His hand stuttered and dragged a line down the paper, and he almost screamed. He scrambled for his phone, body hunched forward as he angrily pressed the button to accept the call.

“Genji,” he hissed out, tone absolutely venomous.

“Hello, brother!” Genji replied jovially, somehow oblivious to the murderous voice on the other end of the call. “I’m calling to ask if you would like to join Jesse, Lúcio and I on a little trip next week!"

“No,” Hanzo said plainly, voice still highly agitated as he set up a new sheet of paper and began copying what he had on the ruined page. Jesse’s warm hands resumed their rubbing, and Hanzo was silently grateful for him. “I do not have time for such trivial matters.”

“Actually, you do! I asked Winston and he said you, me, Lúcio, and McCree all have no missions next week. So,” he said, dragging out the ‘o’ obnoxiously.

“I am going to need more details if I am even going to entertain the thought of joining you,” he replied flatly, a blush creeping to his cheeks as Jesse’s hands worked magic on his neck and upper chest. He bit his lip and tried to concentrate on his work.

“Well, you already know who’ll be there,” Genji began, smile clear as day. “I was thinking we could all take trips to our favourite spots! We’d get to see tons of cool new things, and we would also learn a lot about each other. I think it would benefit us greatly!”

“I know plenty about all the members of Overwatch, Genji. I think you should just take Jesse and Lúcio,” he said dismissively. “I have no interest in mindless travel.”

Hanzo bit back a pleasured groan as Jesse’s hands kneaded his pectoral muscles slowly, warm fingers pressing pleasantly against his chest. He set the pen down, unable to focus, and stared blankly at the half rewritten page. He turned his head to the left and shot his cowboy a questioning look, brows pinched in confusion. Jesse just smiled sweetly and shrugged his shoulders.

“What could I say to make you change your mind, brother?” Genji asked, metallic voice on the edge of pleading. “I already bought tickets!”

“Why would you buy tickets without asking first? That is beyond foolish,” Hanzo said, trying hard to keep the breathiness out of his voice.

Jesse’s hands were burning him up.

Metal fingers pinched and rolled a hard nipple through thin fabric, flesh digits slipping down further to caress strong abs and press into the dip of the ‘v’ of Hanzo’s hips. The archer hesitantly leaned back into Jesse’s chest, unsure of where this was leading. He was on the phone with his _brother_ of all people, surely he wouldn’t do more than this, right?

Wrong.

Those slowly pressing fingers found themselves slipping under the fabric of Hanzo’s lounge pants, elastic waistband stretching to accommodate the intrusion.

Calloused fingertips met silky skin teasingly, Hanzo already sporting a half-chub. The archer exhaled slowly through his nose, desperately hoping the sound wouldn’t get caught by the phone.

It did.

“Hanzo? Are you alright?” Genji pressed, concerned.

“I am fine,” he said, a little too fast. “Just focusing on work,” he lied, shooting a half-hearted glare toward the cowboy behind him.

“Do not overwork yourself, brother, you know you always get knots that way.”

“I am not worried about that. Jesse has already helped soothe that particular problem,” he breathed out, unoccupied hand falling to grip Jesse’s pant leg tightly.

Both of McCree’s hands dove down to Hanzo’s closed thighs, each taking hold of one and spreading them for him. Hanzo bit back a gasp as he was put on display so easily for Jesse, the man’s strong hands keeping his knees spread wide. When they slid away, Hanzo knew better than to close them again.

Jesse rested his chin over Hanzo’s left shoulder, amber eyes staring down at a lax body. His hand returned to its place inside Hanzo’s loose pants, fingers stroking against the now fully hard length. He pressed evil kisses into the archer’s clothed shoulder as he began to stroke him, metal hand teasing at his chest once more.

“No underwear?” McCree asked deeply, voice quiet but teasing.

Hanzo held a hand over the microphone and turned more fully toward Jesse.

“A man can dress as he pleases in his own home!” Hanzo hissed out, eyes dangerous slits as he returned the phone to his ear.

“Hanzo? Who was that?”

“Who was who?” Hanzo asked dumbly, trying to play it off.

“Who were you just talking to? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I thought it was the cowboy,” Genji said, echoey voice prodding.

“McCree? No, no, it was just the, uh,” Hanzo faltered when those devious hands lifted him onto Jesse’s lap. The cowboy slowly started rolling his hips up into the cleft of Hanzo’s ass, flesh hand still pumping him slowly. Hanzo was unsure of where Jesse’s metal hand had gone. “It was just the T.V.”

“You do not have a T.V., brother,” Genji stated.

“I got one recently,” he lied, body red from his ears to his collar bones.

“I was just in your room yesterday,” came a knowing metallic voice. “You do not have a T.V.”

“It just came in today!” Hanzo hissed, back arching when slick metal fingers pressed against his ass, rubbing infuriating circles around the puckered skin. When had McCree gotten lube? How had Hanzo not heard it?

“You’re a terrible liar, Han,” crooned Jesse, thick accent washing over the archer like a wave.

“Maybe I would not be having such a hard time if you weren’t touching me so much!” Hanzo wheezed, face tilted away from the phone.

“Quiet, sweetpea, he’s gonna hear ya,” Jesse warned, fingers slowly pressing inside as Hanzo brought the phone back to his violently blushing ear.

“I do not believe you, but I’ll drop it,” Genji said, words tapering off into a synthetic chuckle. “Anyway! Back to the trip,” Genji began again, making Hanzo wish for the sweet release of death. How could he make Genji hang up?

“I am not going on the trip, Genji,” he said, voice shaky and forced. “Refund my ticket, use the money for souvenirs or something,” he added dismissively, hoping Genji would take the hint.

He didn’t.

“Oh please, brother, I bought these tickets ages ago! I can’t refund them now!” Genji pleaded.

“Genji!” Hanzo almost yelled, the hand gripping Jesse’s jeans shooting up to tangle into wild chocolate locks when warm metal digits pressed against Hanzo’s prostate. “I s-said no,” he stuttered out, eyes screwed shut as those fingers rubbed the sensitive gland mercilessly, massaging him from the inside.

“Are you... _sure_ you are alright? You do not sound well,” Genji commented, worry coloring his voice. “Are you sick?”

“I am not sick,” he grit out.

“Heh, but I sure am,” Jesse purred, teeth tugging at Hanzo’s earlobe as he added another finger, three thick digits pistoning in and out of Hanzo’s greedy hole. “Reckon I could fit a fourth one, baby?”

Hanzo shivered violently, brows furrowed deeply as he attempted to concentrate on sounding civil over the phone.

“I am not sick,” he repeated, inhaling deeply to calm himself. “Just distracted.”

“By what? Nothing ever distracts you this badly,” Genji pointed out.

“Yeah, Han, what’s got you so outta sorts?” Jesse asked innocently, adding the fourth finger slowly while he kissed up and down Hanzo’s neck. The archer barely had time to clap a hand over his own mouth before the ridiculously loud moan came.

“You really do not sound good, Hanzo, perhaps you should go to Angela?”

“No,” he wheezed, eyes teary with overstimulation and over concentration. “I believe I, fuck,” he moaned quietly, “I believe I just need some rest.”

“... Is McCree there, by any chance?” Genji asked suddenly, something knowing lacing his voice.

“No,” he managed to choke out, hips rolling in time with the four thick digits fucking into him.

“You are lying,” Genji said flatly.

He was met with silence.

“Brother, if you were fucking the cowboy, you could always have just called me back later,” the cyborg sighed heavily, a little grossed out.

“Sorry ‘bout this, Genji,” Jesse suddenly said, voice loud enough for synthetically augmented ears to pick up.

“What are you sor-”

Genji didn’t get a chance to finish his question because Hanzo started to moan something fierce. Jesse’s four fingers sunk inside the archer as far as they could go, rubbing against his prostate ceaselessly. His flesh hand tightened around Hanzo’s drooling cock and pumped him as fast possible. The archer’s thighs quaked and the hand in McCree’s hair tightened in a vice-like grip as he came. His chest heaved and his lips quivered, hot ropes of cum landing on his own pecs and chin, chocolate eyes rolling to the back of his head as he rode out the most intense orgasm he’d had in a very long time.

Jesse’s name and the wet squelch of the cowboy fucking Hanzo through his orgasm were the only sounds on either line of the call.

Genji coughed awkwardly.

The silence went on, Jesse eventually stopping and taking his hand out from inside Hanzo's gaping hole. He wiped his metal fingers in a nearby stack of napkins and soothed Hanzo back into the real world; the world where he just came while on the phone with his brother.

Hanzo coughed and cast his eyes away from McCree.

"So..." Genji called, breaking up the tense silence that had fallen over the three. "Do you want to join us on that trip?"

 


	7. Cinnamon, Cloves, and Dragon's Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hanzo is insecure and scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pronpt 7: shower sex
> 
>  
> 
> sorry for makin it sad

It had been a _long_ day.

The mission went from bad to infinitely worse, new recruits dying within the first hour, and the ones before them dying within the next two. It seemed like no matter what he did, McCree couldn’t manage to make the air-headed newbies not throw themselves into harm’s way, warnings going over their heads like their poorly-aimed bullets at the enemies. Jesse had used Deadeye more than once in a fruitless attempt to save the idiot recruits, and his head was positively pounding with the strain it put on him.

 _'How much death could a man handle in one day and still be okay?’_ he asked himself, heavy hands resting over his eyes on the ride back to base. _‘No more’n I saw today, I reckon,’_ he thought, chewed up cigarillo clenched between gritted teeth. He rested his elbows on thick thighs and sighed, the hum of the airship eventually lulling him to sleep.

When they landed, he went through the customary check-up with Angela, grumbling the whole time while she fussed over tiny bumps and bruises. Once that was over, he slowly made his way toward the debriefing room where he knew Morrison was waiting.

“You look like hell, kid,” Jack called as Jesse entered, gravely voice sounding as tired and empty as Jesse felt.

“Wasn’t an easy mission, pa,” he sighed, metal hand removing his hat while flesh fingers carded through sweat-hardened strands of chestnut hair. He must have sounded worse than he looked, because Jack didn’t correct him on his fatherly term of endearment.

“Look, I’ll give you a day or two to settle down before I make you bring it up. You really don’t look good, Jes. Go take a shower and then go the hell to sleep,” he commanded. “Lord knows you need it.”

McCree nodded silently and turned on his heel. Even his spurs sounded tired as he trudged to his room. He could only hope that Hanzo was either out or asleep; he didn’t want to bug him with his sour mood.

Luck must have been against him, because when he unlocked their door, Hanzo was laying on the couch, idly flipping through the channels on their T.V. The archer lay there in nothing but one of Jesse’s old flannels and a pair of royal blue briefs, hair down from its usual high ponytail.

He looked over to Jesse when he heard the click of the lock flipping, gorgeous brown eyes almost black in the darkness of the room.

“Howdy,” Jesse greeted wearily, tossing his hat haphazardly onto a small coffee table.

Hanzo sat up and spread his legs wide, setting a few pillows on the floor between his metal feet before tapping them with chrome toes, a motion for Jesse to sit there.

So he did; he draped his serape over the back of the couch, removed his heavy chest plate, took off his chaps and tossed them toward their bedroom, and set his belt with his hat before settling down between Hanzo’s augmented calves.

Hanzo’s strong hands immediately got to work, massaging his scalp to ease the headache he knew the gunslinger had, if his entrance was anything to go by. It was admittedly a little gross, salt-hardened, knotted hair on his list of “things he’d rather not deal with,” but for his cowboy, he would do anything; even touch his gross, battle-worn hair. Hanzo let out a little snort at his own train of thoughts, fingers falling from sweaty oaken locks to a pair of broad and bruised tan shoulders.

He kneaded the sore muscles there, receiving groans and sighs of appreciation and pleasure alike as a reward for his efforts.

"Would you like to join me in the shower, Jesse?” Hanzo cooed, archery-calloused fingers rubbing lazy circles into the juts of McCree’s spine. “I was just about to go take one, but then you arrived,” he added, hands sliding around to rest pleasantly on McCree’s chest, slowly undoing what buttons he could reach from his spot on the couch.

“I’d love that, sweetpea,” Jesse sighed, metal fingers pressing mindless patterns into Hanzo’s inner thigh. He leaned in and kissed it before shifting to stand, reaching his flesh hand down for his lover to take.

They made their way slowly to their shared bedroom, dropping dirty clothes into the laundry hamper before meeting in the doorway to kiss lazily for the first time that day. Jesse hugged Hanzo close, every inch of their bodies touching while their lips met and parted languidly.

They made their way to the bathroom unhurriedly, sharing more slow kisses and lingering looks along the way. When Jesse’s warm feet met cold linoleum, he hissed. Hanzo cocked a brow in question.

“Floor’s cold,” he supplied simply.

Hanzo just nodded and stepped into the bathroom, synthetic feet unable to differentiate between the textures or temperatures of the warm, soft carpet or smooth, cool linoleum. It was all the same under the robotic soles.

He missed being able to feel things like that; missed feeling whole.

_He wondered if he was missing out._

Hanzo snapped himself out of his sour train of thought with a minute shake of his head and got to work starting the shower. He was beyond thankful that they had a big bathroom, because a big bathroom meant a big shower, and a big shower meant that they could both be in there together.

It also meant that they had room for extra... _activities._

Soon, the water was steaming, and Hanzo stepped inside the hot spray, holding out a hand for Jesse to take. Metal fingers tangled with rough flesh ones, and soon they were holding each other gently, free hands caressing strong jawlines.

“I missed you today,” Hanzo sighed, tilting his forehead toward Jesse.

The cowboy leaned forward and pressed nerve-bitten lips to the bunched up skin between Hanzo’s furrowed eyebrows. “Missed you, too, angel,” he murmured, baritone voice obscured by the skin against his mouth.

They stayed like that for a few moments, just letting their closeness wash over one another before they decided that getting clean was a good idea. Hanzo turned away and faced the spray of steamy water, warm drops landing on his chest and trickling down his body to meet the the drain. He watched blankly as the heated rivulets tried and failed to breach the airlock of his prosthetic knees, streams of clear liquid creating small waterfalls over the shiny metal.

Hanzo blinked rapidly and spun them around, making Jesse settle in the stream of balmy water.

If McCree noticed anything was off about him, he didn’t point it out.

The archer reached for his favourite soap, a special traditional-style foamy rub that smelled pleasantly of white jasmine, mint, and sage. He brought soapy hands to Jesse’s chest and began to clean him slowly. His hands shook just barely, and he tried desperately to ignore it as he rubbed the frothy substance into Jesse’s sore muscles. Bruises and cuts littered sun kissed skin, some old, others fresh enough that they tinted the suds pink in a few spots.

Hanzo’s hands stuttered when they reached a particularly angry gash, the skin around the cut bruised a deep brown.

“Hey, honey, s’okay to touch it,” Jesse said encouragingly. He grasped Hanzo’s hands in his large ones and guided them until they were resting over the scabbed area. “I’ve had worse,” he added absently.

Hanzo cast a fleeting glance at McCree’s steel-plated forearm before returning to the task (quite literally) at hand. He pressed unsteady palms against the slowly healing gash before quickly moving on and cleaning the rest of Jesse’s front. He prompted the gunslinger to turn around so that the soap would wash away and so that he could wash down McCree’s back and get the sweat out of his unruly hair.

Soon enough they had switched places again, placing Hanzo under the spray once more. He stared at the simple white tile of the shower wall before him, unable to stop thinking about how easily Jesse seemed to take getting hurt. He wasn’t invincible; what would he do if McCree never came home? Was falling in love with a teammate like this a mistake?

Palms pressing against his shoulder blades brought him back to reality as they lathered his back up with Jesse’s spicy smelling soap. The soothing aroma of cinnamon and cloves filled the air, and Hanzo was immediately put at ease as he allowed the smell of his loving cowboy wash over him. Water-warmed hands washed at Hanzo’s body, Jesse’s strong figure pressing against his back as he washed Hanzo’s front from behind. His scruffy chin rested over Hanzo’s tattooed shoulder, lips pressing idle kisses to the inky scales.

Jesse rocked his hips slowly against Hanzo’s water-slick ass, half hard cock making itself known. He was happy to find that if he looked down, the archer was in a similar state of arousal. Sudsy hands explored lax muscles, metal fingers gliding over ancient scars and dipping into endearing dimples.

He paused when he felt Hanzo’s body tremble.

“You okay, Han?” Jesse asked, lips moving against deep blue scales.

“I am f-fine,” came Hanzo’s pitifully small voice.

His shoulders were shaking faintly.

“Baby,” Jesse called quietly, big hands coming to rest upon Hanzo’s trembling shoulders. “Hanzo, honey, whats’a matter?”

“It is nothing,” he said, feigning strength even as his voice wobbled dangerously. He bowed his head, long bangs falling forward to hide the hot tears that fell from dark eyes.

“Oh no! Han, angel, sweetie, what’s wrong? Why’re you cryin’?” Jesse asked, pressing Hanzo’s shivering body against his stable one. He stroked smokey locks slowly, accidentally getting spicy soap into the strands.

He seemed so small like this, pressed against him the way he was, shaking and crying.

Fragile.

“I am just,” Hanzo started, leaning his weight into his lover’s chest. “I am worried. About you. About what you think.”

“What d’you mean?” McCree pressed, confused.

“I am worried that I cannot be what you want, that I cannot be _beautiful_ to you,” he whispered, head turned away. He stared at the ugly scars that were forever cursed to lick up his thighs with hatred in his gaze. The archer felt his insecurities rise up like the shameful beasts they were, clawing at his throat and begging to be given a voice. “I am worried that you will find me unappealing without my,” he paused, sucking in a heavy breath before tapping his chrome toes against the walls of the shower. “Without _these_.”

His eyes were burning.

“I am also worried about...” Hanzo started, lips a wobbly mess. “I am scared that,” he tried again, failing once more. He exhaled, nostrils flaring with fear. “What if you,” Hanzo choked out, accent thick with his growing sadness. He was really having a tough time getting this out.

_“What if you do not come back, Jesse?"_

McCree suddenly felt bad that his dick was still hard, but he couldn’t really help it, not with Hanzo’s slick ass rubbing against him so much.

“Oh, angel,” he sighed, warm breath fanning over damp skin. “What kinda terrible hypocrite would I be if I didn’t like you with or without your additions?” He asked, wiggling his steel fingers in front of Hanzo. “I think you’re more than mighty fine no matter what,” he said calmly, tone even.

“You’re a handsome man, Hanzo. A pair a’ legs, or the lack of ‘em, ain’t ever gonna change how gorgeous I think you are.”

Hanzo broke, quiet sobs dragging themselves from inside his lungs without his permission.

Jesse held him close.

“And as for worryin’ about whether or not I’ll come back home, sugar,” he added, baritone voice soothing Hanzo slightly, “I’ll be damned if I die without seein’ you. I will always, always come home to you, Han. Always. Don’t you worry a hair on that pretty lil’ head’a yours, alright, darlin’?”

Hanzo nodded shakily, body still pressed against Jesse’s own.

Why on earth was he still hard?

“Want me t’give you some space, peach?” Jesse asked, already moving to separate their bodies.

"No!” Hanzo practically yelled, the dragon on his skin swirling slowly but visibly. “Please, no,” he whispered, tiny and shattered as fat tears fell down his regal cheeks. Lord, the man was even beautiful when he cried. “I need to feel you, Jesse,” he breathed out desperately. “I need you,” he whined, pressing his hips back into McCree’s crotch.

Who was he to deny Hanzo?

His metal hand searched for the waterproof lube they kept on-hand in the shower just for shower sex, and he mentally high-fived himself when he actually managed to find it. He slicked three fingers up, pressing two in right off the bat.

Jesse stretched the archer slowly, but was quickly forced to speed up when Hanzo reached back and shoved his fingers in deeper.

Two quickly became three, and soon Hanzo was a moaning, sobbing mess in Jesse’s strong arms. He was babbling in Japanese, English, and even some broken Spanish, begging Jesse to hurry.

Jesse wasted no time, pressing into Hanzo’s hot, slick, greedy ass quickly but with care. Hanzo moaned brokenly, hands resting against the wall of the shower as Jesse filled him up.

Neither of them were going to last long.

Jesse started up a mild pace, hips smacking against Hanzo’s ass loudly. The sound echoed off the walls, coming back twice as loud each time. The archer pressed back in time with each thrust of McCree’s soft hips, mouth hanging open as he encouraged Jesse to go deeper, harder, faster.

Drool, tears, and water alike mixed themselves into Hanzo’s neatly trimmed beard, dripping down the drain in a sloppy, clear mess as the smaller man was thoroughly fucked. Jesse pressed in hard, wide hips pressed flush against Hanzo, and he ground down into the archer’s prostate.

That did it for Hanzo, who came mere seconds later, painting the floor of the shower white with his cum. He trembled and clenched rapidly around Jesse’s cock, edging him closer to orgasm.

It was the reverently whispered “I love you,” that tipped McCree over, forcing him to fill his dragon to the brim and then some. White leaked out around Jesse’s cock as he pulled out, his cum dripping out to land with Hanzo’s in the mess at their feet.

“I love you too, baby,” Jesse whispered into a beet-red ear.

* * *

 When Jesse carried a towel-dried, teary-eyed, sleeping Hanzo to their room, he didn’t think a grown man could possibly look any smaller. He set the archer in the center of their big bed, sliding in next to him and caressing him gently.

He was never going to let Hanzo feel this way again.


	8. Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 8: piercings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like givin them piercings okay

It had started as a joke.

An exhaled string of words on a night filled with sake and whiskey, drunken blushes painting pale cheeks red, and tan ones dark and warm. A chuckled sentence as gentle fingers carded through smokey strands of silken hair.

It had started as a joke.

“You have quite a few piercings, Jesse,” Hanzo commented, fingers playing with the ring in McCree’s left nipple.

The gunslinger nodded slowly, eyes glinting when something popped into his head.

“Think you’d look mighty pretty with somethin’ right here, sugar,” Jesse purred out, eyes closed as his steel fingers traced Hanzo’s nipples through his thin t-shirt. “Or here,” he snorted, pointing to Hanzo’s tongue when it came out to lap up a stray drop of sake from his small porcelain cup.

Hanzo turned his face toward Jesse, honeyed flecks bright in deep brown eyes as the light of their room illuminated them. Those breathtaking irises were slowly eaten up as pupils expanded, light honey and rich chocolate disappearing at the speed of warm molasses.

Metal fingers snaked down a clothed chest, traveling down to rest on the front of loose harem pants, palm heavy against the slight bulge forming inside.

“Or maybe even here,” he breathed, hot puffs of air washing over Hanzo’s slightly open mouth. He pressed his palm firmly against Hanzo, hooded amber gaze boring into the archer.

Pitch black pupils sucked in the velvety colors of Hanzo’s lovely eyes, swallowing almost all of the iris up in the dark voids as arousal coursed through him like molten lava.

Things grew heated from that point quickly, the pair of men a blur of hands and lips, tongues and teeth. Moans and hisses of pleasure filled the room, the slap of skin on skin the heady beat to the sinful song their vocal chords were singing together. Nails raked angry red paths down strong shoulders, pulling tan flesh closer to pale skin.

It was supposed to be a joke.

Months had passed since that fuzzy drunken night. Jesse had been away on mission after mission, coming home too tired to do much more than shower, give Hanzo a peck or two, and sleep for as long as possible before another dire issue popped up mere hours later. Hanzo was no better off, tired body sore and aching, eye bags hidden beneath a thin layer of concealer so that no one would ask him if he needed a break.

But in the few days of downtime that the archer had managed to scrounge up, no one was able to find him. He would always place a hold on an Overwatch vehicle, and would be gone for most of the day, if not all of it. He would return late at night or the next day irritable and a little snappy.

One night he came home unable to speak, and everyone was worried. He didn't talk for nearly a week and a half, and was only able to eat softer foods. When he was finally able to speak again, he wouldn’t tell anyone why he had gone mute for so long for seemingly no reason.

He shocked the team when he wore both sides of his kyudo-gi up, surprising even Genji when he refused to say why he suddenly changed that detail of his appearance. No one really complained too much, it didn’t seem to affect his skills on the field.

It was just very... odd.

As quickly as he had made the change to his outfit, he had switched back to baring his chest not even three weeks later. This caused some of the team to look at him weirdly for a short time, some people so worried that they sent Zenyatta out to try and see what was up. When Zenyatta came back empty handed, everyone collectively gave up.

He made a point of not visiting Jesse during the nights anymore, instead staying in his own spartan room for nearly four months. McCree worried if he had done something wrong.

Maybe the eldest Shimada brother was just going through a midlife crisis?

McCree was asked to confront Hanzo when he came back one day and was angry for absolutely no reason. He snapped at anyone who even looked his way, and the dragons writhed beneath his skin visibly enough to put everyone on edge.

Even Jesse couldn’t figure it out.

When the sixth month rolled around, Hanzo was finally calm. He acted as if nothing had been wrong with him for nearly half a year, acting as kind as he had five months before he seemingly snapped. It calmed the other agents, even if a few were still unsure of what was up with him, and soon everyone fell back into the old routine.

That night, Hanzo knocked on Jesse’s door. He was wearing a loose hoodie and light grey sweatpants, his hair tied up in a low ponytail with a generic hair tie.

The speed with which the man answered made the archer quirk a brow, regal features pulling together into a judgemental look.

“Good evening, Jesse,” Hanzo greeted quietly. “May I come in?”

“Ah, shit,” McCree stumbled, stepping aside to allow the shorter man entrance. “‘Course y’can, sugar. Sorry the room’s a lil messy, y’haven’t been here to keep me in check,” he added a little sadly, eyes downcast.

“I apologize for my absence,” Hanzo sighed, walking into the room. “I have been... busy.”

The room wasn’t as horrible as Jesse had made it seem. A few of Hanzo’s shirts sat on the couch, all bunched up where the archer assumed McCree had been sleeping for a few nights when he was too tired to make it to his room. Jesse’s belt was dropped over the back of the couch, and his chaps and serape were resting on the coffee table. Hanzo turned toward the cowboy when he heard the door click shut, chocolate eyes resting on sad amber orbs.

“Did I do somethin’, Han? ‘Case if I did, I’m mighty sorry,” Jesse said quickly, voice tired.

Hanzo rushed forward and wrapped McCree up in a tight embrace, pushing him against the door with the force of it.

“No! No, you did nothing wrong, Jesse,” he mumbled, lips pressed tight against his heartbeat. “I was just very irritable. For my own reasons, really, I was the one making me be so on edge.”

Jesse wrapped his arms around Hanzo, burying his face in his ponytail and inhaling deeply. It’d been a long six months, and he missed the smell of his archer.

“What on earth did’ya do to make yourself so damn miserable?” McCree murmured, arms tightening momentarily around the smaller man before he pulled back and looked Hanzo in the eyes.

“Come here,” Hanzo urged, one hand cupping a scruffy jawline to guide the gunslinger down. “I have a few surprises for you.”

Their lips met and Jesse was stunned, flesh fingers clutching at Hanzo’s shirt when the kiss was immediately deepened. Tongues came out to play, and McCree moaned in surprise when a slick metal ball clinked against the one in his own mouth.

He pulled back, eyes wide.

“Han? Could’ya stick out your tongue for me?” He asked, stunned expression silly on his face.

Hanzo obeyed and stuck the muscle out, metallic blue glistening wet in the light of the room. A decently sized sapphire ball sat perfectly in the middle of Hanzo’s tongue, and the archer wiggled it around teasingly.

“Shit,” Jesse breathed, dragging the word out. “This why you went all quiet on us for that one week? Didn’t want no one t’see it?” Hanzo nodded and stuck his tongue back in his mouth.

“I have a few others that you might be interested in,” he confessed, turning on his heel and stalking toward the bedroom. He turned his head over his shoulder when he stepped into the room, lifting his chin in an invitation to follow.

Hell if Jesse wouldn’t chase him to the ends of the world, if it meant seeing more of that beautiful man.

When McCree entered, Hanzo instructed him to sit on the mattress; he had a show to put on for him. Jesse sat at the foot of the bed, long legs bent at the knees as he stacked his fingers together and rested his elbows on his thighs, chin sitting in his steepled hands.

His gaze was hungry.

That starved look spurred Hanzo on, fed his ego. He looked down his regal nose, a holier-than-thou look crawling into his cocky face as he craned his neck and slowly began to lift the hoodie. Jesse was fairly calm, eyes raking up and down the freshly bared skin until they landed on Hanzo’s chest. He let out a choked gasp when more blue metal caught the dim light of their room. Two barbells sat prettily in Hanzo’s nipples, shiny, new.

The haughty smirk broke as Hanzo’s lips split into a wolfish grin, honey-flecked irises flashing with arousal. He tossed the shirt to the side and stared down at the awed cowboy, leaning down to grab his big hands rest them on his chest.

“You said you thought I’d look mighty pretty with somethin’ right here, did you not?” He said, mimicking Jesse’s words all those months ago. “Or here,” he said, sticking out his tongue again. Something dark flashed through his eyes.

“Or maybe,” he whispered, tone dripping with sin as he pulled down his sweats, stepping out of the fabric that pooled at his synthetic feet. “Maybe even here,” he breathed, guiding Jesse’s flesh hand down to his dick, thick fingers catching on the metal of Hanzo’s newest piercing. Jesse’s hooded lids fluttered and he shivered in his spot when his eyes landed on the jewelry adorning Hanzo’s pretty cock.

A royal piercing for a cocky prince.

“ _Fuck,_ Hanzo,” he exhaled, tone uneven and raspy. “If this ain’t the hottest damn surprise I ever got, I dunno what is.” His fingertips traced the metal lightly, the vague pressure making Hanzo moan low in the back of his throat.

He straddled Jesse’s waist, chrome plated knees resting on either side of the cowboy's thighs. “I thought you would appreciate them,” he purred, eyes slitted as he rolled his hips down against the old jeans beneath him. “What do you say we take these off,” he proposed, tugging at Jesse shirt and pants. “And see what we can do with them?”

The smooth piercing on Hanzo’s tongue rolled mindless patterns against McCree’s throat, the small metal ball contrasting with warm, wet flesh.

Jesse had never gotten undressed faster in his life.


	9. Gaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 9: voyeurism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> young!mchanzo B)

He would not stare.

At least, that’s what Hanzo told himself when his new bodyguard arrived. He vehemently denied it when his eyes raked over the American man’s tall form, sucking in the sun-kissed skin, wavy chocolate hair, dashing smile, silly western get-up, and those piercing amber eyes. When their gazes locked, the young cowboy winked at him, charming grin taking up his whole face.

“Howdy!” The man said excitedly, the greeting loud and boisterous. “Name’s Jesse McCree, hun, but you can just call me Jesse.” Another wink.

“Hanzo,” he replied curtly, dark eyes leveling this ‘Jesse’ with a calculating grimace.

Hanzo shook his head and cast his eyes to his father, a hulking, intimidating beast of a man, and listened to him while he finalized the last of his trip over the phone. He would be leaving that day to go travel to some far-off place for a certain amount of time and had requested that his sons be guarded by the best of the best.

The scruffy American kid didn’t strike the archer as ‘the best of the best,’ but when your father was a seasoned yakuza crime-lord, you learned quickly not to judge a book by its cover. He gave the cowboy one last look before turning on his heel and heading to his study, not looking back to see if the amber-eyed man would follow.

He would  _ not  _ stare.

Hanzo quickly found that without his father there to constantly boss him around, he didn’t really have anything to do. There were no chores to do, no surprise attack training regimens, and no paperwork. There was nothing.

He sat around in the spacious study, various books towering around him, begging for attention that he simply would not provide. His fingers traced over his calligraphy pens, but they did not pick one up. They graced the edges of fancy origami paper, but did not linger. His deep brown gaze fell to his violin, resting beautifully in its own special spot, but the usual spark of creation wasn’t with him today. Nothing was catching his interest.

Nothing, that is, until he heard a small noise followed by words in the room over. Nobody used the room next to his study; it was a guest room that hadn’t seen a true ‘guest’ in nearly twenty years.

The cowboy was technically a guest, wasn’t he?

Curiosity got the best of Hanzo and he slowly made his way to the door that connected the guest room to his study, much in the same fashion that his own bedroom door did. The flimsy shoji door could be easily (and quietly) moved if the right person was handling it, and Hanzo liked to think he was qualified enough to snoop on the young American.

Long fingers found themselves wrapped around the frame of the door before he could stop himself, and soon Hanzo was sliding it to the right ever so slowly to reveal the man inside the guest room. What he saw made him hold his breath.

The man, Jesse, was facing Hanzo’s direction with his shirt off and his pants open. He had a light dusting of chest hair that, if Hanzo dared to let his eyes follow, was accompanied by a happy trail that lead to the waistband of dusty red briefs. Metal glinted in the light from his left nipple, the gold matching some of the various piercings in his ears. A few of them were silver. 

The muscles in the right side of McCree’s body were flexing, and when Hanzo let his gaze track the movement, he found that it was because the cowboy was pumping himself slowly. The stereotype was true, then, about American genitalia. Hanzo’s wide eyes watched in awe as Jesse’s hand fisted his downright  _ huge  _ cock, silver barbells disappearing on each upstroke, reappearing with every heavy push down.

He couldn’t  _ not  _ stare.

It was entrancing, the languid pace the cowboy had set. He was gentle to himself, not furious or hurried. He was taking his time, going slowly, really  _ enjoying  _ the moment of perceived privacy to do as he pleased. His head lolled backward when his left hand came into the mix a few minutes later, teasing dusky nipples and pulling the golden ring periodically.

And then he heard it again. A small groan followed by a string of breathy words in a language he didn’t know. The vowels felt heavy to his ears, the roll of the many ‘r’’s sparking something deep within Hanzo’s stomach. The sounds made him think of warm nights and searing light, amber eyes and charming smirks. Arousal coursed through his veins, hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Hanzo knelt down fully, right hand falling to the growing bulge in the front of his formal pants. The shame he felt was heavily outweighed by the pure  _ want  _ that pulled through him. He rubbed in time with Jesse’s lazy strokes, breath hitching whenever the cowboy would speed up for a few moments before slowing down to the original pace. When the young archer’s hips rolled up and knocked him slightly off balance, he found that he had to steady himself by clutching the doorframe. It slipped in his sweaty grip before he could stop it.

The door rolled loudly.

Jesse’s head snapped forward, warm gaze zeroed in on Hanzo.

They sat staring at each other, eyes locked and panting lightly, hands still resting on their crotches. The silence grew uncomfortable and Hanzo felt nervous sweat trickle down his brow line, gaze unwavering and unblinking as they stared at one another.

“Howdy, partner,” Jesse called out, voice flowing from bitten lips like warm brandy. “Fancy meetin’ you here.”      

Hanzo sat rigid, unable to respond. He had been caught  _ peeping  _ at his bodyguard while he was masturbating. He been caught masturbating  _ to  _ him! How could he possibly respond?

“I ain’t upset, if that’s what you’re worried ‘bout,” he said. “Knew you was watchin’ the whole time,” he continued, eyes falling to hooded slivers of fiery amber. “Found it mighty hot, actually,” he added, punctuating his words with a roll of his hips and upward stroke.

The archer gasped and pressed his palm against his clothed dick involuntarily, thighs straining to press closer to himself.

“Wanna sit in that there chair?” Jesse asked, raising a thick brow and gesturing with his unoccupied hand to the chair at the desk next to the bed. “Wouldn’t mind puttin’ on a show for someone as pretty as you, pumpkin.”

Hanzo had never scrambled into a room so quickly. He clumsily clambered into the velvety chair, eyes wide and blushing hard. McCree chuckled warmly, whiskey-colored irises leveling the archer with a suggestive look. Everything about him was inviting; the cocksure curve of his lips, the arch of dark brows, the sinful honeyed pools that made up his eyes, the warm tone of his sun-kissed skin.

Hanzo could drown in Jesse’s presence and die a happy man.

“I,” Hanzo began, but quickly became embarrassed and shut his mouth. He had no clue what to say. The archer sucked in a heavy breath, his heart rattling in his chest. Jesse shot him a smirk before he resumed his previous activities, right hand pumping his drooling cock while his left shifted around in the sheets. He was looking for something. Hanzo quirked a brow, but quickly found himself blushing beet red when a bottle of lube found itself being thrust into his palm.

“‘S’okay if you dunno what'a say, darlin’, I know this is a lil’ much. Also, I dunno if you’ll be wantin’ to use that or not,” Jesse drawled, rolling over on the bed to present his ass to the archer. Two slick fingers worked their way toward his own hole, thick digits teasing the rim. “Y’can look, but’ya can’t touch,” he breathed, voice uneven as he pushed both in at the same time. “Not yet, at least,” he chuckled.

That rule was just fine by Hanzo; he wouldn’t know what to do if he was allowed to touch the man before him. He reached into his loose pants and brought out his own cock, heavy and hard with a bead of pre at the tip. Unsure hands popped the lid of the half used bottle of lube, drizzling a little bit of the body-temperature substance on his straining dick. Long fingers wrapped themselves around his erection, pumping in time with the torturously slow pace Jesse had set.

McCree sped up, fingers pistoning methodically while they crooked, searching for that sensitive spot inside. Hanzo knew when the cowboy had found it when he let out an explosive moan, the sound ricocheting off the high walls of the lavish room and flooding Hanzo’s system with want,  _ need.  _ His thighs spread on their own, hips moving and rolling to create the friction he desperately needed while he watched Jesse fuck himself on his own fingers.

A desperate noise wrenched itself from inside Hanzo, a high pitched whine joining Jesse's deep moans. The pair went faster still, the wet sounds of Jesse’s thick digits fucking into himself spurring Hanzo on. The archer bit his knuckles in an attempt to stifle his moans, which made Jesse suddenly stop, head craning to stare him dead in the eyes. Hanzo stopped the movement of his hand, too.

“I wanna hear you, Hanzo, don’t cover those pretty lips a’ yours,” he commanded gently, “I wanna hear you while you get off t’watchin’ me doin’ this for you,” he breathed out.

Hanzo could do nothing but obey. Bitten knuckles fell from spit-slicked lips, hand falling to clutch the arm of the chair, and he moaned shamelessly when Jesse’s fingers started up again, going deeper than they had before. When the cowboy teased the third in, Hanzo lost it, Japanese and English bubbling forth from his lips wildly in an indecipherable mess.

“That’s it baby,” he cooed, back arched against his own hand. The pet name rewarded Jesse with a broken moan of his name and a feverish look of wanton desperation. “Oh, you like that?” He asked, tone knowing and breathless. “C’mon then, baby, come for me,” he urged, fingers deep and grinding hard. “Show me how I make you feel.”

Hanzo arched off the chair and came hard, drops of white landing on his stomach and the velvety arm of the seat. His chest was heaving as he watched Jesse jerk himself to completion, moaning Hanzo’s name as he shivered around his fingers.

_ He couldn’t stop staring. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you horndogs are crazy man! 6k+ views???? jesus christ, y'all sinners nasty
> 
> i love you all thank you so much for the sweet comments and positive feedback!


	10. Balanced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 10: lazy morning sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was so relaxing to write tbfh

Pale yellow light filtered in through a small window, warm spring rays falling over the regal slopes of high cheekbones and between oaky strands of fluffy hair. Various small potted succulents and cacti lined the windowsill, pastel greens and pinks a welcoming sight to wake to. Prosthetic legs lay discarded next to a large, pale blue bed, the light of the rising sun gleaming against shiny metal. A mechanical arm rested on a cream colored nightstand, steel fingers splayed over the edge to caress smoothly painted wood. Tiny dust motes floated around the area, the air calm.

Dark eyes opened slowly, blinking the sludge of sleep away fruitlessly before closing again, tired. Bodies shifted, legs unwinding only to tangle closer together in a more comfortable mess of sleepy limbs. Sheet clad calves shifted lazily, two pairs of bare thighs touching beneath thin but soft fabric.

Large, gun-calloused hands gently rubbed at an ink covered arm, pressing patterns into smooth tattooed skin idly. Smiling lips sprinkled fleeting kisses to the strong cords of a pale neck, tracing old scars lovingly before trailing gently down relaxed shoulders. Barely-there licks and nips flowed from a lazy mouth in reciprocation, tan flesh slowly turning hot with a happy blush. Chuckles bubbled from two pairs of sleep-addled vocal chords when scruffy facial hair tickled sensitive skin.

“Mornin’,” Jesse mumbled, voice gruff from disuse.

One strong arm wrapped itself around a pale chest, sun-kissed body pressing along a well muscled back comfortably.

“Good morning,” Hanzo whispered, fingers twined within soft brown hair, twisting it soothingly between his thumb and forefinger.

Smokey locks tumbled over slack shoulders as the dragon shifted, settling close to McCree’s hairy chest. Strong hands trailed down thick tan thighs, reaching around to drag Jesse’s hips closer to his own.

“Y’tryin to ask for somethin’, sweetpea?” Jesse asked slowly, lips moving in a kind caress against the shell of a pink ear.

“Mm, perhaps,” came a lazily hummed reply. Hanzo’s hips rolled backward, Jesse’s slowly growing erection pressing against the cleft of his ass. The archer welcomed the heat and weight of it as it rubbed against him.

The arm around his chest tightened as Jesse swayed in time with Hanzo, a steady pace quickly establishing itself between them. Hanzo removed his hand from McCree’s thigh, satisfied with the movements, and slid it down toward his own ass. He spread one cheek, allowing the head of Jesse’s cock to rub against his rim, still wet from the night before.

“Honey, how d’you want me?” Jesse exhaled, fingers drawing soothing patterns into blushing skin.

“Just like this,” said Hanzo, eyes still closed in sleepy bliss. “Be gentle,” he added.

Long eyelashes fluttered against Hanzo’s neck as Jesse slowly pressed in, hips coming to rest against the archer at a pace slower than the sun outside their window. When he was finally all the way in, he rolled against Hanzo, grinding himself into the tight, soft heat. Breathy moans fell from Hanzo’s parted lips at the sensation of being so thoroughly _filled._ Needy hips pressed back unhurriedly, inner walls clamping and clenching to drag McCree in further.

Jesse inhaled deeply once they had set a slow rhythm together, bodies creating a calm ebb and flow, melding together as if they were one. Clean white jasmine and earthy green tea filled Jesse’s head, lulling him into a state of complete relaxation. He moved inside Hanzo languidly, each push of his hips met by the pull of Hanzo’s own.

Balanced.

One of the archer’s surprisingly soft hands reached back to cradle Jesse’s head against him, warm fingers tangling in the sleep-mused mess of fluffed up hair but not pulling. He rubbed them soothingly against the crown of McCree’s head, petting him sweetly. Jesse hummed against him, lips curved into a loving, closed-mouthed grin against slightly sweaty skin as they moved in harmony.

The arm embracing Hanzo slowly released him, moving to instead to touch and tickle sensitive skin, fingers stopping to press firmly against the archer's slowly expanding chest. Hanzo breathed out shakily at the contact, lips quirking into a small and satisfied smile.

They needed this.

“I love you _so much,_  Jesse,” Hanzo whispered, so quietly that McCree almost didn’t catch it. But only almost.

“I love you too, Han,” he cooed back, the movement of his smiling lips sending shivers through Hanzo’s body. “I love you too,” he repeated, punctuating his words with an agonizingly slow grind of his hips, right against the most sensitive spot inside the archer.

Hanzo was close, the flow of his hips stuttering as his lower body spasmed around Jesse. Quiet moans and a breathless mantra of Jesse’s name spilled from plush lips the longer he ground up against that spot, the smaller body beneath him shaking from the intense stimulation.

“Close,” Hanzo managed to warn, fingers curling in wavy dark strands just slightly.

Jesse’s hand snaked down Hanzo's torso to his crotch, thick fingers wrapping around the heated, silky flesh between Hanzo’s thighs. “Me too,” Jesse choked out, voice deep with muted arousal.

It took three pumps of his hand, a deep thrust, and an open mouthed kiss to his pulse to send Hanzo over the edge. He convulsed around Jesse, mouth falling open as a final loud moan of the cowboy's name came dripping out of his vocal chords. Bleary brown eyes snapped closed as he shook in Jesse’s strong hold, hips pushed flush against tan skin.

Jesse followed moments later, adding to the mess still inside from the night before. He rode it out with Hanzo, hips slowly stopping once they were finished. Amber eyes found the sated chocolate ones of his dragon, and their lips met gently.

Pale sunlight filtered through the small window, well cared for succulents and miniature cacti bright and healthy in the spring’s morning light. Three metal limbs glittered in the yellow rays, temporarily forgotten by their owners as they cuddled in a warm post-coital haze in their pale blue bed. Tiny dust motes fluttered around them, the air calm.

Pastel greens and pinks blurred above their heads as the tendrils of tiredness took root inside them.

What a welcoming sight to fall asleep to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i havent like, abandoned Stranded if any of you were worried about that. its probs just gonna be on break until the end of kinktober.


	11. Portraits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 11: photography/videotaping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prob wont be an update over the weekend :/

Jesse’s first love was his camera. It was one of the few things that he kept in pristine condition, not a single scratch or ding on the smooth metal or plastic surfaces. The many glass lenses were kept clean, a special cloth to wipe smudges away always nearby when handling the device.

He’d always been more fond of using scenery as his subject, the beauty of nature always a welcome model for his skills; portraits were never his cup of metaphorical sweet tea. Framed pictures of plants and animals, starry night skies and flowing rivers littered his room back home with his ma. It was a hobby he’d thought he’d dropped after his Deadlock days, but was happily reunited with once Overwatch was reformed.

In his spare time, he could be found taking breathtaking pictures of the many places he’d traveled around the world. Photos of an omnic and a human holding hands deep down in a valley in Numbani, a snow white cat contrasting with the starry night sky of a sleeping Dorado, the highest quality image of a rainbow colored hummingbird flying in the forest of Eichenwalde. Countless moments forever kept by Jesse’s little mechanical memory box.

When Winston had sent Jesse, Hanzo, Genji, and Zenyatta on a mission to Hanamura, the gunslinger knew that he had to take his camera with him; too many beautiful trees and cityscapes not to.

He’d had his camera out the moment they weren’t busy, snapping picture after picture of the plant life and city lights around him; cherry blossoms in a lazy river, huge panoramas of the city's glittering lights at night, calm zen gardens in the pale of the morning’s rays, a sparrow mid-flight, an archer’s receding figure as golden silk blew in the evening breeze. All of these and more found themselves inside the little black box.

Gold silk quickly found its home in almost every picture Jesse took after that trip to Hanamura. As Hanzo and Jesse’s relationship went on, countless photos held pieces of the archer. Carbon-fiber legs swinging away in one of the cherry blossom trees near his old home in Japan. Stormbow resting with Peacekeeper on a lazy riverbank a small hike away from the McCree family ranch. Serape entwined with gold ribbon laying in a wide field. His quiver sitting in the well-worn armchair of his ma’s house in Santa Fe. Jesse’s metal palm cradling both of Hanzo’s hands. Hanzo laughing with Genji. Hanzo playing with Jesse’s many sisters out the bright daylight of the desert. Hanzo kissing steel fingers. Hanzo looking out the window of their room. Hanzo on the lift after a battle, tired but proud, smiling warmly at the camera. Hanzo sleeping on a train from King’s Row at dusk, long eyelashes casting pretty shadows over high cheekbones.

Hanzo had become his new favourite model.

It had grown so normal for Jesse to take pictures of him that Hanzo sometimes _asked_ to be photographed, just so they could wind down with something calming to the two of them. The poses and expressions that McCree would ask for came naturally to the archer, and the process just felt normal for the two of them; like a habit or a hobby.

A passion.

Often times the impromptu photo shoots involved Hanzo being shirtless so that Jesse could catch the lovely dragon tattoo in every lighting possible, sometimes glimmering with sweat, sometimes with water from a recent shower.

This time, the archer lay draped over their bed, silky white sheets caressing pale skin and royal blue scales. Tendrils of scented smoke twisted around him, incense burning on the nightstand close by. His golden ribbon was held between his fingers, wrapped around them loosely, and smokey hair lay pooled around his head like a dark halo, ashen strands at his temples mixing with the inky black mass to make him look every bit the regal dragon that he was.

Scar marred skin disappeared beneath tight black slacks that hugged well muscled thighs and hid metal legs. Plush lips parted at Jesse’s command, dark eyes falling to hooded crescents to give the camera a sultry look. McCree wondered why Hanzo never thought about being a real model; he was more than gorgeous enough to get into any agency he wanted. Regal nose, high cheek bones, broad shoulders, perfect muscles, eyes that drew you in.

He had it all.

The camera snapped when a pink tongue darted out to lick dry lips, snapped again when Hanzo’s back arched _just_ right, making the tattoo shimmer in the light of the room. Strong fingers trailed down the smooth expanse of his own chest, stopping when he heard the ‘click’ of the camera once more.

Hanzo rolled onto his stomach, face angled down in a way that made Jesse shiver in his spot across the bed. A haughty smirk crawled onto his face. The camera clicked again. The fingers of his right hand dragged themselves forward, as if reaching through the lense of the camera to try and hold Jesse. It clicked again.

Black slacks dropped to the floor at Jesse’s whispered request, the hard line of Hanzo’s cock visible beneath the briefs he wore. The tight underwear hung low on his hips, accenting his muscles and strength in a way Jesse hadn’t documented yet.

_Click._

Sheets caught on carbon-fiber calves as they moved to mimic a straddle, strong thighs flexing. The shutter went off again, and Hanzo moaned under his breath, thighs spreading. A dark spot slowly made itself known on the fabric covering the archer’s dick, the stiff line inside the clothing more pronounced. Fingers traced the outline gently, pressure light but there. Hanzo’s eyelids fluttered at the string of clicks that filled his ears, the sound Jesse moving egging him on.

The briefs were chucked to the floor gracelessly, landing somewhere to found later. Pre dripped from the head of Hanzo’s pretty cock, the wet string of it sparkling in the light. It snapped just after the next round of clicks that assaulted Hanzo’s ears. Strong hips rolled up into the teasing pressure of his fingers, back arching to display his chest more fully.

_Click, click._

Hanzo’s left hand found a dusky nipple, mouth falling open in a silent moan. The digits of his right hand wrapped themselves around his drooling cock, sliding up and down slowly. Deep brown eyes closed and heavy brows came furrowed together in concentration, the faintest of blushes painting pale skin pink. The smoke of the incense glided around Hanzo like dark fingers, tracing the archer’s skin in idle patterns.

_Click._

The fingers at his nipple moved up, tracing his own neck before stopping at his lips. The pushed inside slowly, warmth and wetness coating the calloused digits. The hand on his cock moved faster, the blush on his face darkening as it crawled down his neck.

_Click, click, click._

Those three clicks went off in time with Hanzo’s pumps, sending sharp strikes of arousal through his body. When the whispered demand for him to come fell from Jesse’s bitten lips, he obeyed. Hanzo’s back arched as far as it could go, the fingers in his mouth falling to grasp at the bed as his mouth opened wide in a loud moan. His body shook and the blush fell to his chest.

_Click._


	12. What a Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 12: messy + hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry s'not as long, i dont think

Jesse couldn’t tell which he liked more: watching Hanzo lose it beneath him, or letting the archer fuck him absolutely senseless. Both had their appeals; mind blowing sex, Hanzo losing his composure, and both ended in world-shattering euphoria, making the decision harder.

He thought he liked it like this the most, with Hanzo teary-eyed in his arms, gasping and whining while he rolled his hips into the archer, a look of vague defiance seeping onto Hanzo’s fiercely blushing face. Stuttered exhales and shaky sounds fell from kiss bruised lips as Hanzo fought to say something, mouth forming the shapes for words, but nothing coming out. McCree’s movements slowed to a barely-there grind, fingers carding through damp black hair as he leaned down to kiss those swollen lips. Hanzo was a sweaty, teary mess under the gentle actions, a challenge settling in his eyes once Jesse stopped kissing him.

“Why have you stopped?” Hanzo asked impatiently, eyes falling to taunting slits as he stared the cowboy down. Strong hands gripped metal and flesh forearms tightly as Hanzo leaned up into Jesse’s space with a dangerous air, dilated pupils growing to further swallow his inviting brown irises.  “Getting tired, gunslinger?”

The quirked eyebrow and cocky, smirking sneer that took over Hanzo’s expression made McCree bristle in the best of ways.

“Not a _chance,”_ he hissed out, amber eyes burning holes into Hanzo’s as he thrust _hard_ to punctuate the word.

Calloused fingers scrambled up to broad shoulders, pale digits raking deep red lines into the skin as a high-pitched whine flew from Hanzo’s bitten lips. Gold-flecked brown eyes rolled backwards and carbon-fiber calves squeezed dangerously around soft tan hips, metal toes flexing uselessly in the air. Broken moans spilled out from within Hanzo’s throat, filling the room with the constant flow of his lovely little shattered sounds.

Jesse set a fast pace, wet sounds of skin-on-skin joining the stuttering moans that filled the bedroom. The bed creaked with every thrust, the headboard slamming into the wall with nearly as much force as Jesse’s hips against Hanzo’s splayed ones.

Hanzo surged forward, wrapping his arms around Jesse’s neck and resting his feverishly hot face against the flesh there. His lips moved against the gunslinger’s pulse in a feeble attempt at stopping the flow of moans and cracked words that bubbled out from between them in an unintelligible trilingual mess. The only thing McCree could really make out from the hurried words that forced themselves from the archer, aside from various forms of “fuck,” “more,” and “ _harder,”_ was his own name as Hanzo choked on it on every other thrust.

Rough hands tugged at sweat-darkened chocolate locks, spurring Jesse on further. Metal fingers pressed themselves against the flushed skin of Hanzo’s smooth back, pushing the archer’s heaving chest against his hairy one in a move to keep them as close as possible. Amber eyes slid shut as Hanzo clenched around him, but snapped open when he felt one of Hanzo’s hands release him to try and snake down toward his own cock.

“ _No,”_ Jesse growled, steel fingers wrapping themselves around a strong wrist to stop its descent. “You’re comin’ just like this, angel, pressed up against me with only my cock t’bring you over the edge.”

His tone left no room for argument, and Hanzo let out a choked whine of despair as he set his hand back where it had been and let his nails dig into the meat of Jesse’s shoulder. Drool and tears met in a sloppy mess in Hanzo’s beard, lips unable to close around the mantra of Jesse’s name. Thick black brows pulled together in ecstasy as a hazy brown gaze tried and failed to focus on anything other than McCree, dark eyes drinking up Jesse’s being like he was a parched man and Jesse was an oasis.

“J-Jesse,” came Hanzo’s cracked voice, small and raspy. “Jesse, _please_ ,” he cried, thighs shaking with every strong thrust that abused his inner walls. “ _Please, please, please,_ I need more! I n-need you deeper, Jesse, _fuck,_ please?” Hanzo begged, watery eyes pleading as he stared up at the man above him.

McCree decided in that moment that he definitely liked it like this the most, with Hanzo absolutely _ruined_ under him, begging and shaking and needy, _all for him._ He loved the mess he made out of the usually composed archer, loved the drool and tears and sweat dripping down his blushing body, loved the way his cock dripped steadily the longer he was unable to touch it, loved wiping that smug smirk of his regal face, and positively relished in the wrecked moans and broken whines he was rewarded with thrust after powerful thrust.

Like this, Hanzo held a massive power over Jesse even if he didn’t know it; garnered devout adoration from amber eyes that glowed with an intense love, amassed endless praise that was meant for his ears only. Like this, Hanzo rendered Jesse as his and his alone; his lover, his means of satisfaction, his comfort, his home, just _his._ Like this, Jesse was nothing without him; powerless before the maw of the dragon.

Cool heels dug into the skin of Jesse’s back, pressing him impossibly closer until the two could no longer truly differentiate themselves from one another. In this moment, they were one. One body, one mind, one being with one goal; _fall together._

Jesse obeyed Hanzo’s begged request, crushing him to his chest and angling his hips _just_ right until he was ramming into Hanzo’s prostate over and over again, the abuse of the sensitive spot forcing Hanzo into a fit of screamed moans and full-body twitches as orgasm washed over him in overpowering waves. He shook and convulsed around Jesse, insides fluttering and constricting around him, dragging him in further. With a few miscalculated thrusts, Jesse was soon following, filling his archer up to the brim and then some, hot white streaks leaking out around McCree’s dick as Hanzo finally began to calm down.

They rocked together slowly, eyes closed and steadily breathing the same warm air. They whispered sweet things in all three of their shared languages, different words from different cultures forcing themselves together to form a unique dialect that only they could hope understand. Steady metal fingers traced the lines of high cheekbones, amber eyes soaking up every piece of the gorgeous man beneath him that he could. A tiny gasp fell from his swollen lips when breathtaking brown eyes slowly opened before him, luminous golds and muted oranges lighting up in the warm glow of their room.

Yes, McCree believed he much preferred it this way, with Hanzo calm and sweet beneath him, tracing calloused fingers and battle-hardened palms over his cheeks and jaw with such a kind gentleness that it made Jesse’s eyes mist over before pressing his face into the hands he adored so much. He loved it the most when clear brown eyes would gaze into his own, looking for all the world as if he was searching amber irises for the answers to the universe, loved it when bruised lips would split into a silly, lopsided grin before pressing against his own in a slow and loving kiss, relished in the way he would settle them down beneath silken sheets and plush comforters, tired body pressing against his in a way that reassured him that he wouldn’t be going anywhere.


	13. Smooth Like Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 13: dirty talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was shockingly hard to write for some reason sooooo sorry if aint too great

Hanzo regretted meeting Jesse McCree the moment the cowboy opened his dumb, beautiful mouth. Smooth words fell from smoother lips in a simple greeting that washed over Hanzo like a cleansing wave of clear water, threatening to drown him in the rich depths of his deep voice.

Hanzo found himself lost in those deep baritone chords, hanging onto Jesse’s every word as if he were a church-goer and the deep rumble of Jesse’s voice was his sermon. He wasn’t religious by any means, but if a church opened up to worship the absolute angel-song that spilled from Jesse McCree’s perfect mouth, he’d be the first member to join.

It was hard to focus when they had missions alone together that lasted more than a few hours. He would sit with blushing cheeks and a hazy expression as his ears drank up the sounds of Jesse’s voice cursing quietly through the crackle of the earpieces they used. He didn’t even care that it wasn’t as good as hearing it in person; anything from within McCree’s throat was worth hearing; through a radio, up close, or otherwise.

Hanzo didn’t know what he’d do if Jesse ever whispered to him.

He found the man in his room now more often than not, plenty of his belongings sitting alongside his own. It wasn't uncommon for Jesse to spend the night, sleeping on his futon or somewhere in his bedroom. They had grown close, and told each other things often. Many times innocent whispers were rasped into Hanzo’s ears, forcing a blush to color Hanzo’s cheeks and have him averting his gaze. The mere thought of feeling that warm breath any closer to him had him rearranging his pants to hide a growing erection.

The “problem” got worse when the gunslinger finally grew comfortable enough around Hanzo that he flirted with him playfully at any chance he could. It shot pangs of heat through Hanzo’s veins, made him clench his fists in small bursts to keep himself in check. Hearing that slight rasp under words as warm and mind-numbing as the whiskey that dripped with them on the cold nights they shared together nearly gave Hanzo’s heart reason to fail in his chest.

He didn't know how long he’d be able to take the torture that was Jesse McCree and his sinfully sweet voice and still regard him as just a friend.

He couldn’t get it out of his mind.

Many nights were spent with Hanzo biting one of his pillows, a hand shoved down his pants while he rutted against his palm desperately, picturing all the ways Jesse’s voice could wreck him. He would only get as far as Jesse saying his name in a sweet voice before he ran out of material, though, and would find himself slightly unsatisfied by the time he was finished.

This time, though, was different. While his hand slid into the front of his pants, his mind supplied him with the various grunts and groans that had fallen from lips bitten in concentration as Jesse sparred with Hanzo. His thoughts carried to him the sounds of encouraging whispers, small utterances of his name joining the whispered praise. That honeyed drawl fell over him like a warm blanket, soft and kind as the man it belonged to. Rough fingers wrapped themselves around the weeping head of his own cock, massaging and stroking the skin slowly. He pumped himself with a muted sense of care, taking things at a pace that meant he could really get into his own thoughts and just _let go._ His thighs flexed as he thrust up into his grasp at a lazy tempo, taking his sweet time to make himself really feel _good._

Just as he was about to really start getting into it, eyes slipped to almost-closed crescents, heavy breaths falling from between his slightly parted lips, his door opened. Jesse’s tall figure entered the dimly lit room, cheerful voice carrying over to the man with his hand currently frozen within his pants.

“Hey Hanzo! Jack wanted me to tell y’about this new mission with Genji that we’ve got comin', uh,” he called out, voice tapering off once amber eyes fell toward the archer on the couch, hand still shoved down his pants. “Oh sweet baby Jesus in a manger,” he whispered, pupils dilating to swallow the honeyed color of his eyes.

“Jesse, I swear to you that this is not what it looks like,” Hanzo spluttered quickly, eyes wide as dinner plates

He didn’t take his hand out of his pants.

“Oh, you callin’ me Jesse now?” McCree all but purred, a single brow arched in question. “That’s new,” he noted. Jesse hummed lowly, something dark sparking into those warm eyes. “Y’said it ain’t what it looked like, but it’s awful dark in here. What, exactly, does it look like, sugar? Paint the picture for me so I know what’s goin’ on in here,” he requested innocently, slowly stepping toward the couch.

The fingers around his cock tightened in response to the heady lull of McCree’s voice. A pathetic whiny noise sounded off in the back of the archer's throat at the term of endearment before Hanzo gulped and closed his eyes, a shaky mess of an exhale clawing its way from his lungs and out his nose. Chocolate eyes followed Jesse’s every move, sharp and precise as a cat watching a mouse. Except in this situation, he felt more like he was the mouse, pinned under the heavy, piercing gaze of the other man.

“I am just sitting on the couch,” Hanzo offered simply. He couldn't go into further detail, it was too embarrassing.

“‘ _Just sittin’ on the couch,_ ’” he repeated sarcastically. He nodded to himself before he came to stand behind the couch, leaning down until his lips were just barely ghosting the shell of Hanzo’s blushing ear. Cool steel digits reached over Hanzo’s shoulder to trace down the hard line of his arm, traveling down until they met the hem of Hanzo’s sweats where the rest of the archer’s hand disappeared beneath the loose fabric. “This feels like you’re doin’ a lil’ more’n ‘ _just sittin’ on the couch,_ ’ Hanzo,” he whispered out, hot breath curling around Hanzo’s ear. Metal fingers pressed themselves against the hand beneath them, forcing Hanzo to rub against himself.

A keening moan slipped from Hanzo’s parted lips and he rolled his hips up into his palm, head falling back against Jesse’s shoulder. He chuckled low in his throat, mouth teasingly close to Hanzo’s ear. His fingers dipped into the loose pants with Hanzo’s hand, resting on top of it to help guide him back to the slow pace he had been going at before McCree had interrupted.

“What were you thinkin’ of, sweetheart?” Jesse rumbled, lips pressed against the warm skin of Hanzo’s ear. “Were you thinkin’ about bein’ touched,” he asked sweetly, fingers tightening around Hanzo's sweaty hand. “Thinkin’ about bein’ licked,” he teased, tongue flicking out to taste the skin of Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. “Thinkin’ about bein’ talked to somethin’ _filthy?"_ Jesse rasped out, the promise of something more laced within his tone.

“I,” Hanzo started, voice thick and shaking. “I was thinking of the third option,” he admitted, eyes still closed and brows drawn together. Heat radiated from his cheeks in pulsing waves, and he was positive that if McCree pressed his face any closer to him he’d surely hear his pounding heartbeat. “Specifically being spoken to by, um,” he paused, body tense. “You.”

“I figured,” Jesse breathed out jokingly. He walked around to the front of the couch, peering down at Hanzo. “I’ve seen the way you shiver in your seat when I whisper to you, hun, seen the way you blush so pretty when you hear me talk. You ain’t subtle,” he laughed, eyes twinkling. “Scoot forward, sugar, and I’ll give you what you want.” His voice was positively dripping with promise.

Hanzo listened. He scooted forward, knees bent as his feet set down firmly on the carpet. He sucked in a breath when Jesse slid into the space behind him, wide hips the perfect size to accommodate Hanzo. McCree wrapped his arms around the archer’s waist, chest pressed softly to Hanzo’s back. His chin came to rest on a tattooed shoulder; the perfect height to speak directly into Hanzo’s ear.

“This is much better, isn’t it?” Jesse crooned, deep voice sending muted vibrations through Hanzo. “When we sit like this I can see everything. Get to watch your chest heave every time I say somethin’,” he purred, fingers tracing Hanzo’s chest gently. “Get to see your pretty cock tentin’ those sweats ‘a yours.”

 Hanzo shivered in his spot, pressing himself more fully into Jesse’s chest. His heart was beating so fast and hard that he was sure he’d faint inside the loose cage of the cowboy’s arms. He was practically drunk from hearing Jesse speak.

“You react so _well,_ Han,” Jesse noted, big palms smoothing down the front of Hanzo’s torso to rest at the hem of his pants. “You’re already shakin’ for it and we haven’t even started yet.” When McCree shifted, he pressed his hips forward so Hanzo could feel the bulge in the front of his jeans. “Can’t believe I finally get’a tell you all the shit I’ve wanted to do to you since I first saw you. You drove me fuckin’ _crazy,_ ” he whispered out hotly, hands squeezing Hanzo’s waist.

Desperate whines fought to reach out of Hanzo’s throat, bubbling up but staying held on the tip of his tongue. His cheeks burned fiercely and he turned his face away from the voice that threatened to send him over the edge already.

“What’s wrong, sweetpea?” Jesse asked with feigned concern, craning his neck to stay close to Hanzo. “Is bein’ able to hear this to much for you? Too excitin’ to hear what you’ve wanted to hear for so damn long that you just can't stand it no more?”

He sounded positively predatory.

Hanzo’s hips rolled up and his fist tightened around his cock, the muscles of his arm flexing against McCree. He nodded his head quickly, the blush on his cheeks falling toward his neck as he pumped himself faster than before. A big warm palm slipped into Hanzo’s pants and slowed him down, teasing him with the promise of calloused fingers on silky skin.

“Slow down there, baby” he teased quietly. Metal fingers slowly pushed soft fabric down smooth thighs, baring Hanzo’s cock to the cool air. “Wouldn’t want this endin’ to quick now, would we?"

Hanzo shook his head.

“Didn’t think so,” Jesse said. “Look at you, all pretty n’ hard for me, drippin’ somethin fierce,” he sighed, tracing feather-light fingertips over the heated skin in Hanzo’s grip. “God, I can’t fuckin’ wait to suck your dick, Hanzo, can’t wait to feel you _throb_ in my mouth while I let you fuck it.” He kissed a searing path down Hanzo’s neck, knocking the archer’s hand away and replacing it with his own. “Can’t wait to _taste_ you,” he whispered, husky voice sending shivers down Hanzo’s spine while he squeezed his cock for emphasis.

“J-Jesse,” Hanzo whined, hips stuttering as they rolled up into McCree’s grip. He held the fabric of Jesse’s jeans tightly, his other hand raising to tug on chocolatey locks of wild hair.

“Hmmmm? What is it, Hanzo?” McCree asked, sweeter than sin and just as enticing.

“I need,” Hanzo moaned out, tugging more firmly on the fluffy strand beneath his fingers. “I need more, please, Jesse, _more,_ ” he begged, rolling into the warm palm on his dick.

“More?” Jesse hummed, eyes closed in mock thought. “You sound awful needy, darlin’, askin’ for more. Wouldn’t mind hearin’ you beg for me like that while I’m fuckin’ you senseless. I’d love to watch you writhe beneath me, whinin’ and screamin’ for more, for harder, faster, _deeper,”_ he hissed out, biting down on Hanzo’s shoulder.

Full-body shivers shook Hanzo to his core, on the edge of spilling all over Jesse’s hand. He panted unevenly, staccato breaths encouraging the gunslinger on.

“You’re a right mess, baby,” teased Jesse, thumb rubbing over the slit of Hanzo’s cock to smear the translucent liquid beading at the tip. “A dirty, horny, slutty lil’ mess. An’ I love it, Han, love seein’ you get this way just ‘cause of my voice, love knowin’ that just hearin’ me makes you about ready to spill over in your own damn pants.” He sped his hand up on Hanzo’s cock, calloused digits catching on the smooth skin in the best ways. “Wanna know what I love more, Hanzo?”

“W-what?” Hanzo choked out.

“The fact that I can tell you to come whenever I want you to and you probably will,” he murmured.

“That is not true,” Hanzo argued, turning to face Jesse with a look of defiance on his blushing face.

That was a mistake.

“It’s not?” Jesse asked, voice sounding sincere but his eyes suggesting that he was anything but. “Really?” He challenged, hand stroking harder and faster, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yes, really.” Hanzo replied, expression morphing to something more unsure as heavy pants fell from his bitten lips.

“Mmmm,” he hummed, his face saying that he knew otherwise. “I don’t believe you, pumpkin.” He slowed his pumping, hand a barely-there presence. Before Hanzo could object, he whispered huskily, “Come for me. Come all over my hand like the horny little fuck you are. _Come for me, Hanzo.”_

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10k hits? damn, y'all thirsty as fuck
> 
> sorry for the really anticlimatic ending yall, this prompt was SO HARD TO WRITE for some reason that by the time i got to the end i wanted to punch the screen.


	14. Sensitivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> propmt 14: coming untouched  
> request: nipple play with jesse  
> request: trans jesse or hanzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i liked this one

Jesse had always had a sensitive chest. He learned this at a young age, and invested in his upper body armor during his Deadlock days because of it. The slightest of touches made him blush and look away, made him bite his lips and squeeze his hands into tight fists to try and keep any indecent noises at bay. Even just the feel of his shirt rubbing up against his nipples was sometimes too much, and as a result he was shirtless as often as possible.

When Hanzo started dating him, he grew worried that the archer would make fun of him for how painfully easy it was to turn him on. But the jokes never came, the teasing never made it’s way to his ears, and Hanzo only ever encouraged him. A fleeting touch here, a firm rub there, a pair of lips smiling against soft chest hair.

He was only ever kind.

“Jesse? Do you think you could come from just this?” Hanzo asked sweetly, fingers rolling dusky nipples with a care so gentle it almost made Jesse’s eyes mist over.

“I, ah, maybe? Ain’t never,” Jesse broke off in a low moan when Hanzo’s warm tongue licked one of the sensitive nubs teasingly. “Ain’t never tried it before, sugar.” A stuttered exhale shook itself free of Jesse’s lungs when calloused fingertips traced the time-faded scars just under his pecs. Feeling, tracing, caressing.

Reverent.

“Well then, why don’t we find out?” Hanzo said excitedly, a pleasant grin splitting his soft lips.

Kisses and nips as light as feathers tickled the center of Jesse’s chest, branching out to the left as they grew in pressure. By the time Hanzo’s lips made contact with the golden ring in Jesse's left nipple, a pathway of hickies in various shades of ruddy scarlets and dusky purples found itself pointing to the skin-warmed metal. Careful teeth tugged on the golden ring in sharp but easy bursts, a clever tongue swiping out now and then just to hear Jesse react.

And boy, did he ever react. Already he was a moaning, panting mess. Glassy eyes watched in awe as Hanzo worked the nub with a practiced ease, the scrape of teeth and the tickle of facial hair around his pec forcing more sounds of pleasure out of his throat. When Hanzo’s tongue flattened over it, the blue metal ball pressing against the sensitive skin, Jesse let out an explosive moan. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his metal hand card through smokey hair, pressing Hanzo closer, encouraging him to continue. Soft lips wrapped themselves around the hard nub, a teasing tongue and a warm metal ball circling the heated skin.

When Hanzo began to _suck_ on Jesse’s nipple, the gunslinger had to do everything in his power not to scream. His efforts had to double themselves when the archer’s arrow-calloused fingers snaked up Jesse’s stomach until they reached the opposite side of his chest, rolling the peaked skin of his right nipple between two warm, rough fingers. Hanzo raised his head and stared down at McCree, a thin, shiny line of saliva connecting his spit-slicked lips to the red skin and gold piercing on the left side of Jesse’s chest.

It felt like it was going on for _hours_.

Jesse was fucked. He was already so close, he cheeks painted a red so dark he could feel the heat pulsating off of him in powerful waves. He was fucked and Hanzo hadn’t even started on the other _side_ yet. He brought his flesh hand up to his mouth, biting harshly on the knuckle of his pointer finger as he cast a needy glance up to Hanzo’s cocky face.

Dark eyes shared a knowing look with hazy amber ones so bright in the dark of their room they seemed to almost glow. A knee slid up to meet with Jesse’s crotch, and thick, strong, shaking thighs clamped down around it tightly.

“Oh, _Jesse_ ,” Hanzo moaned, mouth falling open in a silent gasp as he rubbed his knee against the gunslinger. “Jesse, Jesse, _Jesse_ , my love, you are so fucking _wet_ for me,” he whispered, fingers massaging the skin around both of Jesse’s nipples. “Are you close?”

Jesse nodded his head with an embarrassed look on his face, closing his eyes and turning his head away to avoid any teasing.

The teasing never came.

“You are always so worried,” Hanzo commented sadly, dark eyes pleading as he looked over Jesse’s fiercely blushing face. “Do not be.”

Hanzo reached a gentle hand up to McCree’s scruffy cheek, palm a reassuring pressure against him. Jesse turned his face into the touch, honey eyes cracking open slowly to meet Hanzo’s loving gaze. Hanzo leaned down and kissed him slowly, fingers pressing and smoothing against Jesse’s chest while their tongues met and danced wetly. When Hanzo broke the kiss and started his descent down toward the right side of his chest, Jesse brought his hand back up to his mouth and bit down on the same finger once more.

His back arched into the silken heat of Hanzo lips when they closed around his right nipple, moans falling back out of his mouth with a new kind of ferocity. Hanzo’s strong hands slid up Jesse’s sides to rest in a guiding hold, keeping him in place while worked his tongue around the skin with his tongue and the metal ball in it. His thumbs rubbed gentle lines into the faded scars close by, tracing them with care. He swirled his tongue in endless patterns, sweet sounds escaping both of their throats as Jesse’s mind took him higher and closer to the end.

Minutes, hours, _years_ could have passed, Jesse didn’t know anymore. All he knew was that now his back was arching up and his chest was heaving in Hanzo’s mouth and his hands were gripping the sheets so _tight_ and he was coming _hard_. He couldn't keep his mouth shut, moans so loud they could have been mistaken for screams ripping themselves from his throat. His thighs were locked around Hanzo’s knee, shaking and curling tighter and tighter around it as his head thrashed from side to side.

When he finally calmed down, amber eyes rolling open slowly to look at the archer once more, he let out a gasp. Hanzo was panting hard, hovering right above Jesse’s face as his body convulsed over his own. His eyes were screwed shut and all that was coming from his mouth was an endless stream of Jesse’s name. Metal and flesh palms held blushing, sweat damp cheeks and dragged Hanzo’s forehead down to meet his own. He kissed Hanzo breathless, kissed him through the aftershocks and kissed him until he rested his body against Jesse’s, and then he kissed him until they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the anon who wanted nipple play and to the user who was curious about me doing trans mchanzo; i gift this chapter to you my dears
> 
> tell me how i did!


	15. Kisses Before Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 15: aftercare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is for my sibling who cannot handle actual porn. somthin sweet n short just for them! hope they enjoy it ;v;

Jesse liked to think that he loved the moments after sex with Hanzo as much as or more than he enjoyed the actual act because the archer would be so  _ kind  _ to him afterward. He would hug him tight and kiss him all over, tell him how well he had done, how happy he was to have him all to himself. 

How he didn’t care if he sounded a little bit greedy or selfish because it was true, Jesse  _ was  _ his.

When they would finally calm down from the haze their minds were in, Hanzo would slowly separate his sweat-sticky body from Jesse’s equally tacky skin and run a steaming bath for the two of them to share. Jesse would know when it was almost time for him to start moving a little when he could smell cinnamon and incense in the air. Moments later, Hanzo would come out and kiss both of his sleepy eyelids, trail those soft, kiss bruised lips down to his own swollen ones and plant a series of loving kisses on his mouth without any heat behind the motions.

Their hands would clasp, fingers twined together while Hanzo led them to the bathroom. He would always insist that Jesse get in first, and his deep brown eyes would follow his movements lazily and lovingly. Every time, without fail, he would kneel down next to the tub and press languid kisses up and down Jesse’s left shoulder, fingers slowly pressing small buttons and twisting chrome knobs to take the metal arm off. He would set it gently on a small shelf, trace his fingers over the ironwork and the steel bits before slowly turning back toward Jesse.

Gentle fingers would press at the skin just above the mass of angry scars that licked up from the spot where Jesse’s arm ended, gradually becoming more confident and massaging the sore flesh with both of his warm hands. He would smooth the tension away with butterfly kisses and careful thumbs, getting rid of the stress of that day. He would eventually reach across Jesse and grab his favourite shampoo, lathering his hands up before soaping Jesse’s hair. His fingers would work out the tangles and knots in the wild mess of chocolate strands, making the hair smooth and soft. Water cupped in calloused palms would rinse the suds away, leaving Jesse feeling refreshed and a little prettier than before.

When he finished with that, he would step into the hot bath, back to Jesse’s chest, and sit between the gunslingers spread thighs. His hands would rest on the tops of the thick muscles, pressing idle and random patterns into the skin there while his steel toes wiggled in the mass of cinnamon and clove scented bubbles. Jesse would set his open palm within Hanzo’s view, and the smaller man would drizzle shampoo into it. He would do the same to Hanzo, lather this silky dark locks of hair with pleasant smelling soap and clean the grime of the day away delicately. 

Before they grew too pruney, Jesse would prompt them to stand up and Hanzo would begin to drain the tub, starting the shower up at the same time. They would quickly rinse off and hop out of the tub, helping towel Jesse off before drying his own body. Before they left the bathroom he would always grab Jesse’s arm so that it would be within reach for the cowboy the next day.

They’d slip in to bed together, murmuring sweet and kind nothings to one another as sleep threatened to take their groggy minds. Slowly, kisses would press themselves into the clean skin, smiles playing at the lips of their respective owners. Eyelids, heavy with the need for sleep would flutter as brown and amber fought to peer into one another. Tired hands would write words of love and terms of endearment in their native languages until the two finally fell into a gentle, sweet sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cant believe how much you all liked the dirty talk chapter 0:


	16. Peacekeeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 16: gunplay/weaponplay  
> request: trans hanzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh fuck i actually liked writing this oh my god im a dirty boy

Guns had always garnered a certain amount of respect from Hanzo. Sure, archery was traditional, beautiful, and came naturally to him, but something about the sheer _power_ behind the sleek exterior of a deadly firearm really caught the archer’s attention.

When Hanzo had been paired up with Jesse for the first time, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of his gun. The cool blue tint to the metal of her barrel, the slate grey of her cylinder, the sleekness of her build as a whole; Hanzo was positively enthralled by her. He had to give credit where credit was due, though. The gun was only as good as its wielder, and Jesse was a hell of a shot. The deafening sound of six shots banging out of Peacekeeper in quick succession never failed to send an army of shivers to march down Hanzo’s spine, forcing the faintest of blushes to color the peaks of high cheekbones.

Jesse always thought that the touch of pink had been from the thrill of battle, from the rush of breathlessness after running from one too many enemies. He’d never thought it would be because of him; because of his _gun_.

After Hanzo had begun a relationship with Jesse, he found Peacekeeper in his room more often than not. Sitting on the coffee table, laying on a windowsill, resting on a pillow teasingly. Every new spot had Hazo thinking he was being put through some kind of cruel test. Dare he touch the gun? Or should he disregard the firearm as a whole, leave her to Jesse’s care? He could never tell, especially when the gunslinger would often let him hold Peacekeeper, let his fingers trace the few dents that marred her smooth body and caress her parts with care. He eventually even let Hanzo clean her when he wasn’t around, let him take her apart and see her most private inner-workings.

Chocolate eyes gleamed with something more than innocent exploration as careful fingers reassembled Peacekeeper. Adoration flooded his mind while Hanzo leaned back against the headboard of the bed he shared with Jesse. Peacekeeper lay unloaded in his lap, fully reconstructed, her cool metal caressing his strong thighs through a thin layer of fabric.

Jesse wouldn’t be back soon, right?

He could have a little fun, couldn’t he?

A dark blush painted Hanzo’s face as he reached into the drawer next to the bed, pulling out a well-used tube of lube. Silk boxers were shucked from scarred thighs, cool fabric pooling to the floor when metal calves spread wide to accommodate a strong hand. He knew he could get pretty damn wet, but a gun might need a little more than some natural lubricant. Two slick fingers pressed into heated flesh quickly, eager to stretch the soft muscles to fit something as foreign as Peacekeeper inside.

Two fingers quickly became three, Hanzo’s greedy insides contracting to drag his own fingers into the searing wetness between his spread thighs. He pistoned his fingers in and out impatiently, spreading them and wiggling them against his inner walls to further prepare himself for Peacekeeper. She gleamed innocently from the bunched up blankets next to him, taunting him with the promise of something dangerous, something _forbidden_. A fourth finger joined the mix, just to be safe, and Hanzo hissed in pleasure at the muted burn he felt.

When he finally felt he was stretched enough, he removed his fingers from himself, the glistening entrance to his hole fluttering uselessly at the newfound emptiness. He groaned and reached for Peacekeeper, lifting her from her spot on the bed and dragging her front sight down his parted lips, a pink tongue darting out to taste her. The foreign flavour that spread through his mouth filled him with heavy pangs of arousal, his hips rolling up desperately as the smokey, metallic tang covered his eager taste buds. He trailed her lower, tracing her front sight down his chest before pressing her muzzle firmly to the skin just above his pubic bone. His lungs seized up in anticipation when her cool metal tip fell past his crotch, nudging at the wet folds of his cock languidly before slowly, _slowly_ pressing in.

The sensation of chilled steel pressing into his heated flesh had him biting his lips in an attempt at keeping quiet. Her foreign shape slipped further inside when he arched his back, the flare of her barrel stretching him in ways he’d never experienced before in his life. It was almost overwhelming how good she felt inside him, how amazingly wrong it felt when he clamped down around her.

He had a gun _inside_ of him. He had _Peacekeeper_ inside of him.

_He was fucking Peacekeeper._

Dark eyes rolled shut at that earth-shattering revelation, the blush on his cheeks falling to slowly paint his chest, too. He panted heavily, slowly thrusting Peacekeeper into himself. His grip on her handle was sweaty but firm, the thrill of using something so deadly for something so dirty spurring him on. He was so busy fucking himself with Jesse’s gun that he didn’t hear it when the man himself entered the room.

“What in the seven sweet hells,” Jesse wheezed out, dilated pupils zeroing on the point of connection between Hanzo and Peacekeeper.

Hanzo froze and snapped his eyes open, head whipping toward Jesse. His grip on Peacekeeper became frightfully tight, accidentally forcing her in at least another inch and a half. A broken moan tore itself free of Hanzo’s parted lips, hazy brown eyes fighting to focus on the gunslinger that stood next to the head of the bed as she sunk inside the soft heat of his insides.

“Babydoll, if you wanted to fuck ‘er that bad you could’a just asked,” Jesse chuckled, sitting down beside the archer. He quickly threw his glove to the side and knocked Hanzo’s hand away, grabbing the gun himself to slowly pull her backward. “Although I gotta say, this is quite the sight to come home to.”

Peacekeeper was only inside Hanzo by barely an inch now, and the archer whined in protest. Before words could voice his displeasure, though, Jesse rammed her back inside him, grinding her sight into Hanzo as far as he could without hurting him.

“Fuckin’ _christ,_  Hanzo,” Jesse hissed, amber eyes unable to look away from the gun inside his boyfriend as he set a fast pace for him. “You’re drippin’ so damn _much,_  baby, how bad did’ya want her inside you? How long have’ya been dreamin’ of this? Of havin’ a goddamn _gun_ shoved into your greedy lil’ self, hm?” He punctuated the question with an extra hard thrust.

Hanzo couldn’t reply, couldn’t do anything but moan and scream and _take_ it as Jesse fucked Peacekeeper into him. His insides fluttered and clenched around her sporadically, dripping around her as he fought to drag her in further. Wet sounds filled the air alongside his moans, making Jesse rub himself through his jeans with his other hand.

A particularly well-aimed thrust sent Hanzo over, his thighs quaking and spasming as they clenched around Jesse’s wrist. He shoved his face into the pillow and bit the soft fabric of the casing, his eyes squeezed shut with the faintest of tears slipping free. Strong hands gripped at silky sheets, threatening to tear them as his orgasm fell over him in harsh waves, rocking him to his core.

Jesse waited until Hanzo was done writhing in the bed to slowly remove Peacekeeper from inside him, staring the archer dead in the eyes as he brought the dripping gun to his lips. He licked up all the sweet wetness his tongue could find, smirking something fierce as he shoved his hand into his pants and started jerking himself off in front of the blushing man. Hanzo shook in his spot, the sight almost too much to handle so soon after coming, and his thighs pressed themselves together tightly. Steel toes rubbed at Jesse’s clothed thighs in an attempt to spur him on further.

When Jesse came with a whispered prayer of Hanzo’s name a few minutes later, Peacekeeper found herself pressed harshly into the fabric of their bed.

She would see that bed and Hanzo’s cock many times after that night.

She didn’t mind a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thats not how you clean a gun hanzo
> 
> if the way write trans hanzo or jesse botheres you, im sorry. as a transman myself, i write things the way i would want to hear them if i were in their situation, and i wont change that.


	17. Exhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 17: breathplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmmmhhhh this is one of my biggest kinks

“Never have I ever worn cowboy boots,” Hanzo snickered, eyes glowing with mirth when Jesse sulked down into his seat. Idle fingers played with the rim of a crystal cup, tracing the smooth surface lazily. Where Hanzo was fully clothed save for his hair ribbon, Jesse was nearly naked. Clad in one ghost print sock, a tight pair of jack o’ lantern briefs, and his trusty hat, it was obvious who was winning this game.

“Now that was just a low blow, sweetheart,” Jesse pouted, metal fingers slinking down to remove the ghosty sock. Long legs drew themselves up toward a bare chest, metal and flesh forearms coming to wrap around them and shield his scantily clad body from Hanzo’s burning gaze. “Even I didn’t say nothin’ about your get up.”

“Your own mistake, Jesse. No one ever said that I could not use obvious tricks,” he chuckled, bringing the cup of whiskey to his smiling mouth. He licked the rim of the glass to get the last drops of the amber substance, lips parting to purr out “Although I must say, if using such cheap tricks gets you undressed this quickly, I will be indulging in a treat much sooner than I had expected.”

“I’m gonna get you to at least take off your shirt, I swear it. Never have I ever had to use a bow an’ arrow.” Jesse sat up cockily, sending Hanzo a toothy grin when the archer began to remove his t-shirt.

“What was that about low blows?” Hanzo chided, tossing the shirt to the floor with a quiet thump. “Hmm... Never have I ever thought about fucking Genji.” There was a long pause, and soon Hanzo had to raise a brow. Jesse just shrugged. “Wait, really? Never? Oh, I _have_ tell Genji this! He’ll be so embarrassed!”

“Never really saw him that way, I guess,” Jesse laughed, scratching his scruffy chin while he thought of the next question. “Never have I ever thought about bonin’ Jack Morrison.”

With shame flushing his features, Hanzo reluctantly toed off his jeans. He averted his gaze and gripped the denim tightly in one fist, eyes staring pointedly at the small bottle of whiskey between them.

“Ew! Hanzo, he’s old enough to be your father twice over!” Jesse whooped, clapping his hands together as laughter poured out of him.

“He is a very good looking man, alright?” Hanzo mumbled defensively, flicking a ball of lint under the couch to keep his eyes busy. “Never have I ever had my breathing tampered with during sex.”

A sharp inhale cut through the air and Jesse’s hat quickly found itself sitting on one of the couch cushions. When Hanzo looked over to him, Jesse didn’t look embarrassed but he was blushing faintly.

“Oh?” Hanzo called, a single black eyebrow raised high in question. “You have been choked before? Did you like it?” He asked teasingly, leaning forward slightly with every word that left his mouth. “Do you want me to do that for you? Want me to make it hard for you to breathe while I fuck you silly, Jesse?”

“Who would I be to turn down an offer like that?” McCree replied quietly, leaning forward to breathe the same air as Hanzo. “But we ain't quite done yet. Never have I ever... eaten natto!”

Hanzo just shook his head.

“Dammit!” Jesse almost yelled, snapping his fingers in front of himself dramatically.

“Never have I ever wanted to stop playing ‘Never Have I Ever’ to go fuck someone senseless instead.” Hanzo deadpanned, leveling Jesse with a _look_.

Jesse threw his underwear in Hanzo’s direction before scampering off to the bedroom, snickering the whole way there. Hanzo grimaced and shook his head, setting the underwear down with Jesse’s hat before following after him. Only one small light illuminated their room, casting a warm yellow glow over McCree’s body and highlighting the amber of his pretty eyes. He smiled kindly at Hanzo as he closed the door, patting the spot next to him when the archer slowly made his way toward the bed.

Hanzo crawled up onto the bed slowly, knees straddling Jesse’s wide hips. Cool carbon-fiber calves rubbed up against warm thighs, forcing a tiny hiss to escape Jesse’s barely parted lips. The sound was silenced by Hanzo’s own mouth, pressing to Jesse’s in a passionate kiss. He rolled his hips down, encouraging McCree to grind with him while they made out. Hands strayed from heated faces, exploring smooth skin and tangling in wild hair. Tugs and nips and teasing words spurred the deep kisses on until their lips were bruised and slick with spit.

Quiet giggles and soft snorts filled the air around their heads when their noses would bump or their teeth would click gently on occasion. Full body laughs would escape happy lips when thoughts of the silly game they had been playing crossed their minds, and they’d break off to look at each other knowingly before diving back into the deep kisses and slow grinding.

After a long while of heated kisses and silly laughter, Jesse’s metal hand fought with the drawer next to the bed in search of lube. He pressed the nearly empty bottle into the archer’s palm and shifted his hips to rub more fully against him. Hanzo quickly poured some of the slippery liquid into his palm, one slick finger rubbing teasingly against hot puckered skin. He continued circling the tight ring until it relaxed and let the digit in on its own with very little resistance.

Hanzo always loved to finger Jesse. The gunslinger would react so prettily, hooded honey eyes lying long lashes against soft cheeks, softer lips parted just enough for tiny keening sounds to escape out into the warm air he’d share with Hanzo, small and fleeting butterfly kisses pressed into what pale skin he could reach from his spot on the bed. They were rarely ever in a hurry, always taking things slow. But slow did not mean gentle; slow did not mean bland. One finger was enough to ruin Jesse if attached to the right hand, and Hanzo’s hands were about as amazing as they came. He knew exactly where to press and where to rub, knew just what Jesse needed sometimes before Jesse himself even knew he needed it.

Eventually one finger became two, scissoring and grinding into the sensitive spots inside his boyfriend. Hanzo added more lube, making a symphony of wet sounds with every slow thrust of his fingers. When two turned into three, Jesse was begging for more and his strong hand was clenched around Hanzo’s wrist while he stared at him pleadingly.

Hanzo took pity on the blushing man beneath him, petting one soft thigh with his free hand as he slowly removed the three fingers from inside him. He shifted on the bed, leaning down to press happy kisses to the soft flesh of Jesse’s stomach, smiling into them when Jesse started to laugh at the ticklish sensation. He nosed down further, tongue flicking out tease his cock on the way down and he smirked to himself when Jesse’s musical laughter died down into a trickle of muted moans. He sat back up and drizzled more lube into his palm, slicking up his own cock quickly.

“Hurry up, Han,” Jesse whined, pawing at the archer’s hip and wiggling his own in an impatient roll.

A warm smile was shared between them as Hanzo pressed in slowly, letting his hips rest flush against Jesse’s ass. A slow but deep pace established itself between them, each weighty thrust of Hanzo’s hips forcing a noise or three out of Jesse’s throat. Amber eyes stared up into deep chocolate ones, silently asking for more. Hanzo shifted, thighs flexing against the backs of Jesse’s, and he gradually sped up his motions. Languid, deep thrusts became quick but measured snaps, the muted sound of flesh melding against flesh turning into a sharp set of loud slaps that echoed against the walls of their warm room.

Jesse barely had to trace his metal fingers over his own neck before Hanzo took the hint and wrapped his steady fingers around it for him. The callouses on those heated palms and warm fingertips felt like heaven against the sensitive skin of Jesse’s neck, and when he nodded his head a little more, leveled Hanzo with a heated gaze and a small smirk, he got exactly what he wanted. The fingers around his neck constricted slowly, applying a steady, easy pressure that forced a dark blush to Jesse’s cheeks. Hanzo’s thumb rubbed against his pulse tauntingly, and his heartbeat stuttered under it when the fingers on his neck clamped down hard for the barest of moments.

Heavy eyelids fluttered at the first cut off to Jesse’s air supply, amber flickering behind the thin twitching skin. He smiled up at Hanzo something filthy and arched his back, pressing his hips closer to the archer and forcing him deeper. Hanzo slowed his fast, hard pace and traded it back for the slow, deep, tortuous one. With every slow grinding thrust, Hanzo would tighten his hold on Jesse’s neck and he would watch his bright eyes become glassy with a euphoric haze as his airways were restricted.

“I cannot believe you, Jesse,” Hanzo called down, staring into slightly unfocused amber irises. He released his hold and Jesse sucked in a huge breath, slowly regaining his bearings as he came back to earth. But Hanzo wouldn’t let him stay long. “Who would have thought that shutting you up,” he hissed out, pulling his hips back to only leave the head of his cock inside the gunslinger. “Would turn you on so _much_?” Hanzo teased, smirking down at Jesse with dark eyes.

Jesse was blushing hard, but his panting had died down to something more normal, so Hanzo wasn’t worried. Both of Jesse’s hands gripped Hanzo’s shoulders tightly, rubbing the smooth flesh with both thumbs to ground himself. Hanzo snorted haughtily.

“Just look at you, gunslinger. Look at the mess you have already made of yourself. Dripping all over the place.” He quirked a thick brow and Jesse took another deep inhale. The archer trailed a finger through the mess pooled on Jesse’s fuzzy stomach and brought it up to his lips to lick. “The mere sight of it alone is enough to render a man absolutely _breathless_ ,” Hanzo said mockingly, thrusting in _hard_ and squeezing his throat once more. He sucked his finger clean and bore his eyes down into Jesse’s own, smiling sweetly.

A would-be moan wormed its way out of Jesse’s wide open mouth silently, and he squeezed his eyes shut in ecstasy when he was once more unable to breathe. His fingers sagged against Hanzo’s shoulders, metal digits stroking the cerulean dragon scales as they fought to find purchase somewhere. Hanzo tangled his free hand with the cool palm, calming Jesse by kissing the knuckles slowly. Fuzz teased the very corners of the cowboy’s vision.

“Be calm, my Jesse,” Hanzo purred, lips still pressed to the cold metal fingers sweetly. “You would not want to waste what precious air you still have, would you?”

Jesse shook his head.

“That is what I thought.” Hanzo said, slowly starting to rock his hips again. He unknowingly loosened his grip when he got more into it, and Jesse wasn’t having it. He tapped at the loose fingers caressing his Adam’s apple and glared up challengingly.

“I thought you said you were gonna choke me, Han,” he leered, voice all kinds of royally fucked after such abuse; rough and scratchy, gravelly with a hint of a wheeze behind it. But he didn’t mind, reveled in it, even. It made his accent stick out more, made the smoky hint pop out like it never had before. “So fuckin’ _choke_ me, sugar,” he rasped, smiling dangerously as he inhaled as deep as he could.

Who could deny a request so lovely?

Certainly not Hanzo.

The archer shifted once more, slamming into Jesse hard and fast while his hand clamped down around Jesse’s neck with a barely restrained strength. Not enough to hurt him, not enough to bruise or damage or scare, but enough to send his eyes into a hazy mess that eventually rolled backward at the overpowering euphoria that quickly began to spread through his body. Tiny choked noises fought to rip themselves free of Jesse’s vocal cords, dying in his throat when they were unable to be voiced. Screams and loud moans were stopped by Hanzo’s hand, the thumb still stroking over his pulse still there; a constant reassurance. A particularly deep thrust and a mercilessly tight squeeze later had Jesse coming all over his stomach and chest, drops of hot white even landing on Hanzo’s heaving chest. Hanzo quickly released him so that he could breathe while he came, and that made his orgasm tear through his body even harder.

He lay beneath Hanzo, a twitching, writhing, wet and moaning mess with glassy eyes, bruised lips and wild fucked-out hair. Tears of hyperstimulation leaked slowly from the corners of his eyes and his mouth couldn’t shut itself. Drool found itself dripping onto the pillow. Glittering amber caught the light as oxygen flooded his system, and his heaving chest moved in a mesmerizingly steady rhythm.

The sight of him so wrecked, so pretty, was enough to leave a man breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the doc for this is scary huge lmao its like 58 pages long and i am scared


	18. Can't You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 18: orgasm delay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sweats nervously]

Strong thighs quaked as Jesse was brought to the edge for the fifth time that night. Tan skin quivered and twitched with want, loud and keening whines escaping spit slicked lips when Hanzo’s devious hands moved away from him again. Both his wrists sat above his head, tied up once more in the pretty golden silk of Hanzo’s favourite ribbon. He was blushing from the tips of his ears to his chest, and sweat had begun to drip down his temples.

“You are doing so well for me, Jesse,” Hanzo sighed, placing feather-light kisses to the cowboy’s fluttering eyelids. “Tell me, how many times has it been now?” He asked dumbly, as if he hadn’t been keeping count the whole damn time.

“F-five,” Jesse stuttered out with a breathy voice. “Which is four too many if you ask me,” he muttered under his breath, cutting into Hanzo with a scathing look.

“Oh? Do you really want to be like that right now?” He asked darkly, wrapping his fingers around the weeping head of Jesse’s angry red cock and pumping it fast. “Really?” He repeated, speeding up the movement of his hand.

Jesse was shaking under him, hips straining to press into the tight grip of Hanzo’s hand. “Because I could easily just leave you here, tied to the bed like this, hard and wet and weak,” he hissed.

Jesse was so fucking close.

_One more stroke, just one more stro-_

Hanzo let go.

Jesse screamed.

“I could leave you here just like this, so close that it hurts.” Hanzo purred, hooded eyes piercing Jesse’s misty ones dangerously. “You would not wish for that, would you? You want to come, right?” He teased, walking his fingers up Jesse’s shivering abs. “You must remember, you are the one who asked for this. You are the one who said you could handle going to eight.”

“I,” Jesse began, eyes unable to look away from Hanzo’s cat-like gaze. “I can.”

“Good! Good, I am glad. I would have hated to have to stop here,” he whispered, fingers walking all the way up to Jesse’s throat. “How many are we at?”

“You know how many we’re at,” Jesse hissed. He wasn’t very good at this.

“Jesse, Jesse, _Jesse,_ ” Hanzo cooed, fakly kind. “You are just adding to the punishment. I think we should bump it up to nine, now. Do you think you can handle nine, Jesse? For me?” He stroked a single finger up Jesse’s cock, bringing the pearly liquid drooling from the tip up to his own mouth to taste. “Just three more, that would be it. Three. You can do three more, right, Jesse?”

Jesse whimpered pitifully and nodded his head, the dark flush on his body radiating warmth from him in waves. He was panting and writhing, a sweaty mess in the center of their large bed.

“How many have we done?” Hanzo asked, wrapping his hand around the base of Jesse’s cock.

“Six,” he wheezed, eyes shut tight while his body twitched under Hanzo’s hot touch. “ _Madre de dios, ya van seis,_ ” he cried out, hips rolling up into the loose fist around him.

Hanzo let him thrust up into his hand, peppering his sweaty face with kisses and his neck with little nips and teasing licks. His thumb rubbed all over the weepy head, forcing moans and screams to tear themselves from Jesse’s vocal chords. He had long since abandoned English, Spanish curses and mindless words flowing from his bitten, bruised lips. His chest was heaving with every thrust that took him closer to the edge, and his mind was going blank with how bad he wanted it.

“You are so good for me, Jesse, so perfect and pretty like this,” Hanzo said on a breathy exhale. He released Jesse again and the poor man honestly sobbed at the loss of contact. His twitchy hips rolled around uselessly, seeking friction that never came. His cock was an angry red, and it twitched sharply in protest when it was denied any touch. “How many now?”

“ _Mierda, ya van siete. Por favor, Han, ya no puedo más.”_ Jesse whined, a steady, thin stream of tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“You can’t? Are you sure? If you are, I could let you come right now,” he baited, fingers dragging up and down the silky, swollen skin of Jesse’s dick. “But I won't touch you again for the entirety of next week. What do you choose? You only have two more to go.”

Jesse tossed his head to the left and bit his lip hard. With the barest of whispers and the tiniest nod of his head he said _, “Sigue adelante, puedo manejarlo._ ”

“Good, I knew you could do it,” Hanzo purred. “You are doing so well, Jesse,” he encouraged, starting up a slow pace once more.

Jesse hissed and shook under Hanzo, wrists straining against the strong golden fabric keeping him tied to the head of their bed. He was drooling and crying and so, so _beautiful._

Hanzo let go again.

“ _Please,_ Hanzo! _Please, please, please,_ ” Jesse begged, voice unsteady and raspy.

“Oh, but you are so close! Just one more. Can you do one more for me? Please?” Hanzo pleaded, stroking Jesse’s sweaty cheek and moving his damp bangs out if his face for him.

_“Sólo hazlo ya, mi amor."_

Jesse didn’t have it in him to protest anymore.

Hanzo nuzzled down between Jesse’s thighs, tapping one of the quivering muscles to gain his attention. A tiny gasp escaped his lips at the sight of Hanzo’s face so close to where he wanted it. Hanzo smiled up at him before he wrapped his lips around the head. He quickly sank down, engulfing the silky smooth skin with the searing heat of his wet mouth. Strong hand massaged tense thighs as Hanzo started to bob his head, bringing Jesse closer and closer to the end with each passing second.

He wouldn’t last to one. He couldn’t possibly do it, not when he was _so fucking close. C’mon Hanzo, please, so close._

Hanzo’s mouth moved away.

Jesse started crying.

“Look, Jesse, you did it. Nine times. You did nine and you were so good, you have done so well.” Hanzo congratulated kindly, eyes warm. “Now, when I put my mouth back on you, I want you to come down my throat as hard as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“ _Si,_ ” he cried, blushing fiercely.

Hanzo went back to work, tongue laving against every part of Jesse’s cock that he could reach. It took less then ten seconds before Jesse was filling Hanzo’s mouth, white threatening to slip from his spit slick lips.

Hanzo swallowed, smiled like he was the cat who had gotten the cream.

Jesse’s hands found themselves in Hanzo’s long black hair, carding through the soft locks gently. It took him a second to realize _why_ they were there until he saw strands of ripped gold sitting in two pieces on the bed.

“Shit, m’sorry,” Jesse winced, thumbs stroking through Hanzo’s thick hair.

“It is alright. I knew it would happen.”

Jesse chuckled and brought Hanzo up into a sweet kiss, and they stayed together all night long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont speak spanish so correct me if im wrong, but in order it should have jesse saying:  
> "Madre de dios, que es de seis," which means "Mother of god, it's six."  
> "Mierda, que es de siete. Por favor, Han, ya no puedo más," which should mean "Shit, it's seven. Please, Han, I can't anymore."  
> "Sigue adelante, puedo manejarlo," which should mean "Keep going/ go on, I can handle it."  
> "Si," obviously meaning "Yes."  
> “Sólo hazlo ya, mi amor," should mean "Just do it already, my love."


	19. Overwatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 19: masturbation  
> modern au, businessman hanzo, model mccree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

Hanzo had a love-hate relationship with the fact that he was alone so often. On the one hand, it was extremely lonely and quiet, but on the other, it left him room to delve into the world of fantasies and the dreams he knew he shouldn’t entertain; the thoughts he only ever kept for times like these.

He sat alone in the center an incredibly shitty bed in the even shittier room of a petrifyingly shitty old apartment; cracked flooring, crumbling shades, paper-thin walls. His job really didn’t pay him enough. One wrong move and he was certain he’d fall through the floor and straight into the abandoned lobby below. The only place to go for true privacy was the restroom, but even that was something out of a horror film; plus, it was broken anyway. He’d rather die than go inside.

He thought of his options, and eventually remembered the public restrooms he knew the apartment complex had for pending tenants.

His dick told him that couldn’t afford to be picky.

He cast a half shameful glance around the shabby room, grabbed a small tube of travel lube, his phone, and left his piss-poor quarters. He toed as quietly as possible to the bathroom, avoiding any creaking boards that he could. No one was awake yet, he wasn’t about to change that; he did not feel like being caught with his pants literally down.

He made it to the furthest stall, tucked away in a dark corner next to a cruddy looking window. The sterile lighting was too bright, the room was too cold, and it smelled like old mildew and fresh mold. The bathroom was anything but inviting, but at least his chosen stall was fairly clean, all things considered. He hunkered down and closed his eyes, letting the reality of his surroundings seep away to immerse himself in the vivid world of his imagination. He cleared his mind before reopening his eyes to unlock his phone and go to the first tab open on it.

A modest and classy lingerie modeling site glowed from the device in Hanzo’s hands, the gentle font of Overwatch’s site was always appreciated. New, young, attractive models were posted on the front page nearly every day. But Hanzo wasn’t there for the new models, wasn’t there for the smooth skin and androgynous faces or the fake smiles they donned for the camera.

_Strained._

_Insincere._

No, he was there for the stupidly attractive cowboy that Overwatch had modeling for them. He thumbed through the names of countless men until he we found a link, purple with obvious use. It brought him to a page with the name ‘McCree’ scrawled in a pleasant font at the top, with three tabs to pick from. ‘Recent,’ ‘old,’ and ‘NSFW.’ The last was also purple, frequently tapped on by an eager thumb. For the time being, he just scrolled down. The homepage showcased ‘McCree’s’ most popular images, usually ten at a time.

‘McCree’ was the most attractive man Hanzo had ever seen. Deep tan skin, wild oaken locks of wavy hair, honeyed eyes that pierced Hanzo even through the screen of a shitty smartphone, crinkled with crows feet in the most endearing of ways in any image of him smiling. His lips were almost always split into some form a grin, and then, it was almost always because he was laughing in the pictures. He looked so _right_ in the images, so comfortable and happy.

_Genuine._

_Perfect._

When Hanzo’s eyes fell to the third image on the homepage, he gasped. Overwatch had added a new format to the site; .GIFS.

There, in the most high-quality .GIF Hanzo had ever seen, stood ‘McCree.’ Thumbs hooked into skimpy chaps that left nothing to the imagination, fingers caressing the skin of thick thighs ever-so-slightly, chest rising slowly beneath a tied and cropped plaid button down that showed off his chest hair nicely, and gorgeous eyes hooded in a sultry golden gaze that blinked at the pace of molasses and left a taste just as sweet in Hanzo’s dry mouth. Hanzo took a deep breath as he just watched the man move on his phone. The longer he watched, the more he noticed. ‘McCree’s’ tongue licking slowly along the entirety of his upper lip, pink and glistening. The very beginnings of the base of his cock peeking out from the pulled-down waist of his chaps. A slight smirk on his pretty mouth, haughty and handsome. The barest hint to the swell of his ass whenever his hips rolled up and to the side _just_ right.

God, he was so _attractive._

Hanzo was already hard in his sweats, the old grey fabric tented with his obvious arousal.

Of all the models in Overwatch, ‘McCree’ probably turned him on the quickest. He quickly thumbed down the page, pausing now and then when something particularly hot caught his eye. Soon, he found himself with a hand rubbing at the bulge in his sweats and his thumb hovering over the ‘NSFW’ link. He quickly clicked in and was immediately greeted by the sight of ‘McCree’s’ well muscled back shifting slowly, muscles rippling smoothly and oh-so tantalizingly beneath his gorgeous tan skin. His ass sat on perfect display in the chaps he was wearing, round, smooth, and so fucking pretty. Hanzo exhaled sharply through his breath at the look in ‘McCree’s’ eyes, dangerous and intense, but so damn inviting. He wanted to be subject to that smoldering golden gaze in person, wanted those burning amber eyes to glint darkly in a low-lit room as their owner fucked him slowly.

Unknowingly, Hanzo had already started to jerk off to the man on the screen, fingers already inside his pants and wrapped around his dick, pumping slowly. He scrolled further and hissed in pleasure at the image before him. ‘McCree’ lay on a silky looking bed with his legs spread impossibly wide, huge cock hard and pretty in the lighting of the stage room. The fingers of his left hand rested lightly on one thigh, thumbing the fabric of the revealing chaps he wore. The cowboy had long since abandoned the button-up. He lay there smiling lazily, amber eyes closed with a lit cigar in his mouth. Tendrils of smoke curled around his head and tangling in his hair to make him look almost other-wordly. His hat was hanging on the bedpost, a constant presence in every image.

Countless pictures flooded Hanzo’s mind, forcing fantasy after depraved fantasy to paint themselves into his imagination. He thought of being tied up in one of the lassos ‘McCree’ liked to pose with, rough ropes biting into his smooth, pale skin, thought of ‘McCree’ fucking him into oblivion like it was his _job_ to make a royal mess of Hanzo, thought of ‘McCree’ taking care of him after he made his mark, of ‘McCree’ holding him close, unable to move, as he whispered the filthiest words into his ears, calling him names and telling him he was good.

It was the smoothly looped image of ‘McCree’ bending at the waist with a cocky smirk to reveal his ass in the skimpiest bartender outfit in existence that sent Hanzo over the edge, cursing and biting his fist to stifle any sounds in case a customer came in. He took a few moments to calm down, closing out of the browser and just sitting there for a second before he wiped himself down and pulled his sullied sweats back up.

Just as he was about to exit the bathroom, though, his phone vibrated in the pattern that signaled that he had gotten an email. Curious, he unlocked his phone and opened his mailbox, brow furrowing when a message from Overwatch popped into his inbox. Confused, he opened it up and began to read, eyes going wider by the second as he soaked up the words.

_“Dear Mr. Shimada,_

_First and foremost, any information that we have gathered about you has been accessed through harmless (and completely legal) public means, and we are terribly sorry if the extent of our knowledge makes you uncomfortable; that is not our intention._

_It is with our humblest of invitations that we request that you join the ranks of the men of Overwatch. As a well-paying, loyal, and long-time patron of our sweet little site, we have taken the liberty of finding out a little more about you to best reward you for staying with us for so long. While we would usually allow members to request specific pictures or perhaps even give them a private photoshoot with one of our lovely models, we have come to the conclusion that offering you a position among us would best suit you. Not only are we are aware of your current work and home situation, but we have seen your posts on various social media platforms and believe that you would make a dashing new addition to our humble agency. Your natural good looks and the commanding and confident way that you carry yourself are qualities we strive to have in our models._

_Please do think it over._

_With love,_

_Gabriel, Jack, and the Overwatch team._

_(P.S. If you decline the job offer, you may choose either of the options mentioned above, or you may email us back with a different request. Whatever you choose, know that McCree will be pleased.)"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will be continuing this au in chapter 26. please, dont comment that you want more of it, i _know_ , trust me, 12 other people have commented as much (and plenty of anons on tumblr have told me, as well.)


	20. Long Time Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 20: throat bulge/deepthroat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you thirsty gremlins have fun waiting for chapter 26! it's gonna be a MONSTER of a chapter, i swear

Jesse McCree had a huge dick. This was not new news, this was not a big shock to anyone; the way his outfit framed his crotch, chaps on either side and that _godawful_ belt, created the perfect triangle to draw the eye to the large bulge in his jeans. It was a rule that when someone met Jesse, they would undoubtedly stare at has dick for _at least_ a week whether they wanted to or not, and he learned to just roll with it.

He wouldn’t lie though, he was extremely self-conscious of that detail of himself. Past lovers had gotten with him just because of it, only to berate and leave him when they found he was too big for them to handle. He had come to terms with the fact that he’d never be in a steady relationship, and that if he _was_ , he would never let them in his pants. He was fine helping his partners get off without reciprocation, it was normal for him now.

When Hanzo came careening into his life, wrapping his heart around his pretty little fingers and rendering Jesse his, the cowboy’s insecurities came rearing their ugly heads more than they ever had in the past. When they had graduated from fleeting kisses stolen in dingy cleaning closets to full body grinding and intense make-out sessions, Jesse never let Hanzo’s hands past his belt. Hanzo would whine and pout, but eventually he always gave up and let Jesse do as he pleased. Each night typically ended with Hanzo coming all over one of Jesse’s shirts, him begrudgingly leaving to go to his own room, and Jesse furiously masturbating once he was sure a Hanzo had left.

The fifth time McCree had reluctantly declined a blowjob from him, Hanzo snapped. He gently pushed Jesse backward until his back connected with a wall and he was effectively pinned, wide honey eyes staring down into angry brown ones.

“Jesse McCree,” he hissed, voice low and laced with a layer of hurt. “Have I done something wrong? Have I offended you in some way?”

“What?” Jesse almost shrieked, voice too loud and face too hot. His eyes were growing shifty. “Sweetheart, no! You ain’t done a damn thing! Why would you think that?”

“You never let me touch you,” he breathed, sad and quiet. “Do you find me unattractive?” Hanzo asked, eyebrows drawn together in thinly veiled pain. His eyes searched Jesse’s, scared, misty chocolate boring into embarrassed amber.

He was hurting.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jesse sighed, bringing his hands up to cup Hanzo’s face between his palms. “Baby, _no,_ you’re the prettiest damn man I’ve ever had the pleasure a’ meetin’. Absolutely gorgeous,” he cooed, metal thumb caressing the rise of Hanzo’s cheekbone, and the archer reluctantly pressed his face into the calming touch. “I just have a,” he began, wracking his brain for the right words. “I have a bit of a problem.”

“It does not seem to me that you have a problem, unless I have been feeling the stiffness of a gun in your pants and not your dick.” He said flatly. Jesse winced.

Still hurting.

“Not that kind a’ problem,” he corrected. “I’m uh,” he started, eyes unable to look at Hanzo anymore. “I’m particularly ‘well endowed,’ if y’know what I mean.” His face was so hot that it kind of gave him a headache.

“I am well aware of that,” Hanzo replied, unamused. “Why do you not let me do anything for you? Your size does not put me off.”

“That’s what plenty a’ other people said until they got me outta my jeans,” he muttered sourly. He still wasn’t looking at Hanzo.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

Jesse’s eyes slid over slowly.

“I am not ‘other people,’ Jesse, I am not your past lovers who left you for something so petty. I knew what I was getting into when I initiated this relationship, as they should have, too. I know what I want, Jesse, and I know you can give it to me. Will you give it to me?” Hanzo asked sincerely, eyes pleading. “Will you give me what I want? What I am sure you have wanted for quite some time? Will you let me touch you, Jesse?” Hanzo begged, sounding on the verge of breaking down. “Please?”

“Yes,” Jesse breathed out, warm breath fanning over Hanzo’s lips. “ _Yes,_ god, Han, you can do whatever y’want. I was just really worried, y’know? Sorry I made you so upset. I didn't mean to, promise.”

Hanzo smiled sweetly, standing on his tiptoes to press his forehead against Jesse’s. He kissed him slowly, lips a gentle pressure that guided Jesse to the pace he wanted. He gripped Jesse’s soft hips, dragging them forward to rub against his own, and let out a muted groan when he felt how hard Jesse already was.

Jesse had really been holding back.

The archer slowly began to grind against him, rolling their clothed hips together firmly as their kisses became wetter. Tongues met inside warm mouths, quiet moans vibrating against their connected lips. Soon, Hanzo broke off to trail kisses down Jesse’s neck, teeth coming out to nip occasionally. His tongue soothed away the slight discomfort, dragging stuttered breaths from the man pressed against the wall.

Chrome knees collided with the hardwood of their hallway, and soon Hanzo was pressing kisses to the impressive bulge in Jesse’s jeans. Amber eyes bore down into Hanzo’s as his plush lips worked at the seam. Hanzo looked absolutely ecstatic to be where he was, smiling with every kiss to the fabric beneath his lips. Jesse’s mind already felt like it was in a haze, so unused to any attention directed solely on him.

“Jesse, how long has it been for you?” Hanzo asked, genuinely curious. “How long has it been since someone last did _this,_ ” Hanzo breathed, snaking a hand inside Jesse’s unbuckled and unzipped jeans, “for you? How long has it been since someone else felt just how _hot_ you are here, beneath their fingertips?”

“It’s been... _Ah, fuck,_ it’s been at least a few years, sweetpea,” Jesse whined, fingers groping the air uselessly.

Hanzo grabbed both of Jesse’s hands and set them in his hair, encouraging him to pull at the dark strands. He slowly dragged Jesse’s jeans down his soft tan thighs, pressing kisses to skin previously unavailable to him.

New territory to explore.

The kisses descended from Jesse’s navel toward his cock, which was, undeniably, as huge as Hanzo had expected. But the intimidating size did anything but deter him, instead making him more and more excited. He would finally be able to return the amazing feelings Jesse gave to him nearly every night, would finally be able to make him feel good.

A tentative tongue licked a teasing line from the base of Jesse’s cock to the tip, a smirk breaking Hanzo’s lips. His eyes dragged themselves from Jesse’s dick up to his eyes, and he couldn’t have felt cockier when he sucked the tip into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the head.

“Well don’t you l-look mighty pleased?” Jesse noted, feigning control even though he blushing something fierce.

Foregoing a verbal response, Hanzo answered by sinking further onto the length of Jesse’s cock. The ache in his jaw that had already begun to set in sent shivers down Hanzo’s spine, a throbbing sensation filling his head in a way he found he quite liked. He closed his eyes in bliss when the hands in his hair began to massage his scalp in an encouraging way, soothing him and helping him relax until his mouth slipped further down Jesse’s cock. He was far enough inside Hanzo’s throat now that it made his eyes water a little and his throat itch just slightly, but he didn’t mind; not when Jesse was a panting, moaning mess above him.

But even through all the quiet moans and labored breathing, Hanzo could tell that Jesse was holding back, and he _wasn’t_ having it. He brought his own hands back up to fit over Jesse’s knuckles, and pressed both of his palms firmly against his head, effectively shoving him a little further down Jesse’s length. The cowboy gasped and his hips stuttered forward, more of himself fitting into Hanzo’s throat. He was so close to being fully sheathed within the warmth of Hanzo’s mouth and throat, and the sight alone of being barely an inch from being pressed against the archer’s lips was almost too much. Hanzo must have known he was close to the end, because he shoved his nose forward and buried it in the coarse hair at Jesse’s crotch, taking all of him.

Jesse almost came on the spot. The only reason he didn’t was because he didn’t want to choke Hanzo, hot as it might’ve been to see cum leaking from the corners of his mouth right before he’d have spluttered and spit the mess out. Instead, he took a deep, calming breath, and let Hanzo do as he wanted. The archer brought one of Jesse’s hands down to his throat, pressing his fingers against the bulge there. Slowly, leaving Jesse’s hand there, he drew his head back, allowing the gunslinger to feel just how _full_ his throat had been with his cock. His eyes bore into Jesse’s as he went back all the way to the tip, teasing the head with his tongue for a moment before suddenly slamming back down, throat once again full. The sudden shift in the shape of Hanzo’s throat beneath Jesse’s fingertips was terrifyingly arousing, and forced twin moans from each of them.

Slowly, Jesse took the multiple hints Hanzo continued to give him, and began to shallowly fuck Hanzo’s greedy throat. One of Hanzo’s hands rested against his own throat, relishing in the feel of the slight bulge every time Jesse thrust in, while the other snuck into his own pants to slowly jerk himself off in time with Jesse.

One particularly deep thrust sent them both over the edge, Hanzo spilling all over his hand and the floor, Jesse down Hanzo’s throat and into his mouth. Slowly, he pulled out, white following in filthy, pearly strings. Hanzo licked up what he could, swallowed like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever had, and grinned up at Jesse, genuinely happy.

Jesse smiled down just as warmly, helped Hanzo up, and licked his dirtied hand clean lovingly before leading them to his bed to rest for a while.


	21. New Vibrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 21: public  
> request: vibrator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK AND IM SORRY I WAS EVER GONE  
> lots of things have happened and updates are gonna get hell patchy from here on out, sorry

It never hurt to try new things.

At least, that’s what Hanzo told himself as he sat through a dull debriefing with a vibrator rubbing up against his prostate. The day had hardly begun and the archer already wasn’t sure he would make it to lunch; but he had told Jesse he could make it until then, and dammit, he would die before he gave up.

He sat unmoving in his spot, hands steepled before his mouth as he pretend to listen to Winston drone on about a mission they wouldn’t be going on for nearly a week, eyes staring past the scientist to burn holes into Jesse’s thick skull. The cowboy sat there calm as could be, smiling and nodding along with whatever it was Winston was saying, looking for all the world as if he _wasn’t_ thumbing the notch on the small remote in his pocket to the highest level of intensity. Hanzo’s hands clenched, biceps flexing as he fought his mind to not make a sound.

Little did Hanzo know, the vibrator had at least four more settings, and Jesse fully intended to use them all.

“Shimada-san? Are you alright?” Winston called, snapping Hanzo back to reality just in time for him to catch the moan trying to escape him.

“Fine,” he grit out, voice holding an edge he hadn’t meant for it to have. “I am fine,” he repeated, clearing his throat to rid himself of the gravelly undertone. “Just getting over a cold,” he lied. McCree snorted and Hanzo shot the man a dirty glare, kicking him beneath the table.

“Make sure you go see Angela,” he instructed, waving a hand and starting up on the details of the mission again.

Hana and Lúcio shared a knowing look with each other before shooting McCree twin expressions of mild disgust, Hana sticking her tongue out and Lúcio snickering quietly. Satya gave Hanzo a sympathetic look and nodded toward Fareeha before motioning down below the table with a suggestive movement of her hands. A quiet groan came from Hana as she dragged a hand down her face, having to deal with the knowledge that not two but _four_ of the people in the room were nasty horndogs who couldn’t keep their kinks inside the bedroom.

Hanzo felt a flush of equal parts embarrassment and arousal seep into his cheeks, face falling deeper into his hands to hide the pink staining his skin. Winston turned back around to address each member for next week’s mission individually to make sure each teammate knew what their job would be. With each person that he spoke to before Hanzo, Jesse turned the vibrator down a notch until it had gotten to Fareeha right next to him, where it finally felt like it had been mercifully turned off. But, at the same time that Winston turned toward the archer, McCree put the vibrator on full blast and smirked at him something filthy.

“Shimada-san, you will be posing as McCree’s husband,” Winston said for what felt like the thirtieth time that morning. Hanzo’s knee shot up into the bottom of the table, banging against it violently as the small plastic egg vibrated unforgivingly against the sensitive nerves inside him. He bit down on his own hand hard enough to draw blood as his eyes flashed with desire, trying desperately not to rock his hips in his seat.

“Yes, I am aware,” Hanzo wheezed, voice gruff and low. He kicked Jesse again, metal toes dangerously close to the gunslingers crotch but lacking real force. The cowboy just smiled and cocked a brow, bringing the intensity down at an agonizing pace until it finally sat still. With a heavy breath, Hanzo continued, “I am to be ‘Mr. Eastwood,’ and we are to befriend and use our neighbors to gain data about a possible Talon-run underground establishment.”

“Good, good, I don’t have to tell McCree, then,” said Winston, sitting back at the head of the table. “Well! That wraps things up then! You are all dismissed,” he announced, cracking open a banana and settling down in his seat. “And Shimada-san? Please go see Angela, you look like you have a fever.”

With an indignant huff, Hanzo followed the other members of Overwatch out of the room, decidedly ignoring the snickers coming from Lúcio and Hana. He was as surprised as McCree when his knees buckled half way down the hallway to the shooting range, and the gunslinger rushed to steady him.

“You alright, sugarcube?” Jesse asked, rubbing Hanzo’s shoulders reassuringly. “Need t’call it quits? I ain’t gonna judge you if y’do.”

“No,” Hanzo said firmly, standing straight after a few moments. He fixed his clothes and tightened his ponytail, leveling Jesse with a confident expression. “I will do this.”

“Alright, darlin’. You just say the word n’ I’ll stop,” came Jesse’s simple reply. They walked together to the shooting range, Hanzo staying behind to change into his training gear while McCree went on ahead.

He should have seen it coming when the vibrator started up again, he really should have, but he tensed up in shock when the little egg made itself known once more. Hanzo sat on a locker room bench and caught his breath, hands cupped in his lap to hide the bulge in his pants. With a deep, calming breath and more than a few thoughts about Genji naked, he had calmed down considerably and was able to ignore the low setting the vibrator had been put on.

Fully clothed, he headed out to the range to join his husband, a vaguely bitter expression plastered on his face. He hoped against hope that Jesse wouldn't try to interfere with his aim, but knew better than to expect it. Quiver set and Stormbow at the ready, he stood tall and took aim for one of the furthest targets, one eye closed to better focus on the center. He drew his arm back, and just as he let the arrow go, McCree turned the vibrator up. The arrow collided with the target at the same time that Hanzo let out a breathy moan, and when he opened his eyes again, he was surprised to see that he had miscalculated by two entire inches.

Jesse leaned back against a cool cement pillar and watched, Peacekeeper temporarily discarded in favor of inspecting Hanzo’s skills with such a pressing distraction. He followed Hanzo’s line of sight: a line of midrange targets that stood off to the cowboy's right. The second Hanzo nocked an arrow, he turned the vibrator up two notches, grinning when he saw the archer’s body tense up and his whole face turn pink. He bumped it up two more when he let the arrow go, and snorted when it missed the center by nearly six inches.

“Havin’ some trouble there, peach pie?” Jesse asked sarcastically, wiggling his brows when Hanzo turned to face him.

Hanzo’s eyebrow twitched and a drop of sweat rolled down his temple. This would definitely be a challenge.

After a long moment, the archer nocked and loosed three arrows in quick succession, hitting a target at close range, midrange, and one in the very back; all dead center. Confidently, he turned to Jesse and smirked.

“I was just warming up,” he announced, cocking his hip out and placing a hand on it.

Jesse let out a long whistle and shook his head with a smile. “This oughta make you helluva lot more’n _warm,_ ” he muttered under his breath, thumbing the remote until the vibrator was at full power again.

Hanzo scrambled for the low wall separating the shooting range from the rest of the training facility, dropping Stormbow to grasp at the smooth stones with a grip so strong his knuckles turned white and his arms shook. He pressed his thighs together in a poor attempt at hiding his arousal and breathed heavily to try and stifle his moans. His face went from pink to scarlet, the bright hue dipping beneath the collar of his training shirt and he cursed quietly to himself when he heard Jesse move toward him.

Large, warm hands came to rest at his waist and a broad chest came to press against his back. “What’s’a matter, pumpkin? You’re awful red,” he teased, voice low and dripping honeyed promise, just how he knew Hanzo liked it. “Need’a take a breather? I hear the shower’s a mighty fine place to cool down,” came the husky continuation. “Or,” he rasped, lips ghosting the shell of Hanzo's fiercely blushing ear as his hands came to smooth down the front of his thighs, taking large handfuls and spreading them wide. “You could call it quits n’ lemme take care a’ this here _problem,”_ he hissed, rubbing at the tent in Hanzo’s training pants.

The pornstar grade moan that came dribbling out of Hanzo’s mouth had both of them groaning and grinding against each other, Jesse’s hand jerking Hanzo through the thin fabric a little faster and a little harder.

“C’mon, Han, lemme touch you, wanna make you feel good,” Jesse groaned, deep and airy.

“No,” gasped Hanzo, clarity coming back to his mind for a snap second. “Lunch,” he managed to breathe out, “wait until lunch. I will make it to lunch and then you can touch me,” he said quietly, somehow stopping the desperate movements of his hips, pulling away from Jesse and straightening out his clothing. McCree whined but listened, stepping away and smoothing a hand through his hair before replacing his hat to its rightful place atop his head.

With no small amount of regret, Hanzo recomposed himself and retrieved his arrows from the small clean-up bot. With a sly sideways glance at the gunslinger, he left the shooting range to take a much needed ice cold shower. For the first time that day, Jesse left the vibrator off for more than ten minutes, opting to instead walk himself to their bedroom and ‘cool off’ as well.

Hanzo was reaching for a cup for his green tea when his body registered his husband’s presence. He set the cup down before he could risk dropping it, but was pleasantly surprised when the the plastic inside him didn’t begin to move. It took Hanzo a moment, but then he understood: he wasn’t doing anything important, and no one was around for him to try and hide his secret from.

“You play a dirty game, Jesse,” Hanzo said, pouring the steaming tea into the cup and grabbing it, bringing it to his lips to take a generous sip. He rolled his eyes at the chuckle he heard, and rolled them again when he heard the man root around for a beer. “It is hardly noon and you are already drinking?”

“One beer ain’t gonna do nothin',” he defended, popping the cap off with a metal thumb. “‘Sides, I like the taste.”

The domesticity of the scene was so nice that Hanzo physically recoiled when a small group of fellow teammates came in from their training.

Now it was go time.

“Howdy,” Jesse greeted, smiling warmly when Genji, Hana and Lúcio waved back.

“Is it your turn to cook for us, brother?” Genji asked, coming to stand next to Hanzo at the kitchen counter.

“I,” he began, but quickly snapped his mouth shut when the vibrator slowly came to life. “Yes, I will be making some simple teriyaki with a side of rice, nothing special,” he said, trying harder than he felt he needed to to sound normal and _not_ like he was slowly melting from the inside.

“Man, you always make the best lunches,” Lúcio sighed, sitting down at the big family table they had set up for meals. “We should pay you to be our cook, no one ever complains when it's your turn to feed us!”

“O-oh,” he stuttered out, holding out the word a little longer than necessary. The vibe had gone up a few settings. He turned around and started getting the materials he’d need for cooking such a large meal. “I am glad you like it so much. Thank you.”

“Will you need any help?” Hana piped up, trotting past him and Genji to grab an energy drink from the fridge. She settled next to Lúcio when Hanzo just shook his head.

“Are you sure you would not like help, Hanzo? You seem a little distracted,” Genji noted, tilting his head when Hanzo fumbled with the fourth pack of chicken.

“No, no I will be fine. You go sit and talk with the others, I need to start cooking before the rest arrive,” Hanzo grunted, setting the spices down just a tad bit too forcefully.

With a nod, Genji left to go mingle with McCree. The taller man talked with such an ease that it was hard to believe he was playing with the remote unless you were on the receiving end.

Hanzo was a right mess by the time the rest of the team arrived, but surprisingly, his cooking didn’t suffer for it. After nearly thirty minutes, the food was ready and he was panting and red in the face, discreetly hiding his lower body with a folded over apron.

“Ah, lunch is ready. I have put them in order from who eats the most to who does not, so please, come and get it at your leisure,” he announced over his shoulder, surprising even himself when he did not falter. He washed his hands quickly, wrapped up his portion, and set it in the fridge; lord knew he wouldn’t be able to eat like this. “I am quite tired, though, so I believe will go rest,” he said, staring McCree down with an intense look of _want_ burning in his eyes. To anyone else, he just looked slightly peeved. “Please, excuse me.”

He folded up the apron and set it aside, walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway as quickly as he could. He had made it to the end of the hall that would lead to the shorter one that would connect him to his room, but before he could turn the corner, the vibe shot up to the highest setting for the third time. It was so unexpected that Hanzo’s knees buckled and he fell to the floor in a blushing, panting mess.

Moments later, Jesse found him and scooped him into his arms, carrying him off to one of the lesser-used halls where he set Hanzo back down on his weak legs.

“Oh Han, honey, you did so damn good today,” he groaned, peppering his hot face with butterfly kisses. “Didn’t moan infront’a no one, not even once. Y’did so good, sugar, lemme make it worth all your effort,” Jesse rumbled, lips pressed to Hanzo’s erratic pulse.

 _“Here?”_ Hanzo wheezed, tilting his head to give McCree better access to his neck. “What if s-someone _catches_ us, Jesse? That is quite liter- _ah,_ ” he broke off, rolling his hips against the gunslingers when a particularly large wave of arousal washed over him. “That is quite literally what we have been avoiding all day!”

Jesse slowed his hips to a grind slower than cold molasses, metal fingers coming up to grip Hanzo’s jaw gently and angle his gaze up to his own burning amber one. “Look me dead in the eye and tell me you don’t get off to the idea of gettin’ caught,” he nearly growled, flesh hand sliding up Hanzo’s tense thigh slowly. “Look at me n’ tell me you didn’t damn near cream your pants when you thought someone _knew,”_ he hissed, lips bare centimeters from Hanzo’s slightly parted ones.

Hanzo’s eyes fluttered shut and a shaky whine bubbled past his lips, high and desperate. He clenched around the toy, forcing deeper waves of pleasure to crash through his system.

“S’what I thought,” Jesse said, lips even closer to Hanzo’s.

“Take it out,” he croaked, leaning heavily against the cool wall behind him for support. “Take it out, Jesse, please, take it out,” he begged, one hand coming up to cover his face. He flushed hot with shame and want, and he knew it showed in his expression.

“Take it out n’ do what, kitten?” He cocked a brow when he was only met with another high whine. “I ain’t gonna know whatch’ya want if you don’t tell me, Han,” he pointed out, rubbing the back of Hanzo’s neck carefully.

“Take it out and fuck me,” he huffed, staring straight into Jesse’s eyes from between his fingers, a searing blush on his face. “Right here, against this wall.”

“Can do, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning forward and kissing him soundly. After slowly turning the vibrator off, he slid Hanzo’s pants down over his ass, taking two generous handfuls and spreading them, squeezing the soft, firm muscles between his fingers. Hanzo’s hushed gasp only served to spur him on, fingers playing with the little tail of the vibrator before pulling it out gently, kissing Hanzo’s neck to soothe him. He pocketed the small egg before he brought his hand back down, pushing two fingers inside the already slick heat of Hanzo’s ass.

They both moaned when Jesse’s fingers immediately sunk in to the knuckle, the gunslinger fucking his fingers in after a few moments to let Hanzo get used to it. It hardly took two minutes before Hanzo was whining high in his throat for a third, rocking his hips in time with his thrusts and latching a calf around a soft waist to get a better angle.

“That’s it sweetheart,” Jesse moaned, right into Hanzo’s ear as he added the third finger. “Let me make y’feel real nice.” He spread his fingers wide, relishing in the keening moan that that had earned him before he went right back to fucking him in short bursts, deep and just how Hanzo wanted them.

But now, Hanzo wanted more. He huffed and puffed moist breaths onto Jesse’s neck, quietly pleading with him for more than just fingers. He tugged at McCree’s ridiculous belt, scrambled at the zipper to try and get what he wanted. Jesse snorted and took over for him, knocking his hands out of the way to undo his belt and zipper, pulling his cock out to let it rub up against Hanzo’s own drooling length. With the barest amount of repositioning, the head of Jesse’s dick rubbed up against the rim of Hanzo’s entrance, and Jesse didn’t even have to ask if Hanzo was sure, because the archer pushed himself down and onto his cock all by himself. They stood there like that for some time, embracing in the dark corridor of a rarely used hallway with Jesse sliding slowly into Hanzo’s heat, rolling his hips at just the right angle.

Then they heard it: footsteps coming down the hall adjacent to them. Jesse went stock still and Hanzo followed suit, looking just as concerned as his husband on the outside, but his insides told a different tale. He clenched and constricted around Jesse, the warmth of his walls fluttering and tightening to drag him further inside with each step that drew closer. Pre dripped from his tip in a steady stream and that sight alone had Jesse biting his fist to keep quiet. After the footsteps passed and they knew they were alone, bright amber eyes burned into hazy chocolate ones, and Jesse thrust up into Hanzo _hard._

 _“Dios mío, mírate Hanzo, pequeña puta_ , _"_  Jesse growled lowly, hips an unrelenting force against Hanzo’s. “Clampin’ down on me, drippin’ all over the damn place when someone was about to catch us, catch _you_ with your pants down n’ a cock up your ass,” he rumbled, nipping and sucking at Hanzo’s neck as he spoke. He pulled Hanzo’s hips down against his own, grinding himself deeper inside his husband.

Hanzo had no intelligent response, could only moan and whine and whisper Jesse’s name, body doing most of the talking for him. He rolled in time with McCree, held onto his shoulders tight and pressed wobbly kisses to his neck and cheeks. Each deep thrust forced another breathy, broken sound out of Hanzo’s throat, and neither of them cared enough to silence them.

 _“Te sientes tan bien,_ so warm,” Jesse whispered, one hand coming to jerk Hanzo’s cock in time with his movements. “Close,” he choked out, and all Hanzo did was nod fiercely and whisper a whimpered litany of Jesse’s name accompanied by a slew of curses in his native tongue. He was shaking and panting, so close it almost hurt; he’d never been able to act out one of his biggest kinks like this, and now that he could, now that he _was,_ he felt completely overwhelmed.

“Do you hear something?” Asked a gentle voice, one not far from their little spot.

That single question pushed them both over the edge, their lips connecting in a kiss that they desperately hoped would muffle their twin moans of ecstasy. Hanzo’s nails dug crescents into Jesse’s shoulders, even through the fabric of his shirt, and McCree was sure his hands would leave bruises on the pale skin of Hanzo’s narrow hips. They stayed still after that, listening as one set of very quiet feet slowly approached their dark hallway.

“I thought I heard something from down this way, master, but it seems to have stopped,” came Genji’s metallic voice. His neon green lights were steadily growing brighter as they came toward the intersection. The pair held their breaths; one look to the left and Genji would see them.

“It seems it was nothing,” Zenyatta said smoothly, kind voice putting them both on edge. The soft blue of his forehead display turned toward the left ever-so-slightly.

Something in his tone said he _knew._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know if this feels rushed bc i was super confused when i wrote it lmao  
> ya boi could always rewrite it  
> pls correct my spanish


	22. Dessert Before Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 22: kitchen sex  
> request: aprons  
> request: thong  
> request: hanzo getting eaten out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if it seems rushed and/or not as long, as i was half asleep when inspiration hit me, and i dont have much time to get T E N chapters out, rip
> 
> please let me know if there is anyway i could make the chapter more enjoyable/better  
> ive also never written someone getting eaten out so  
> theres that

Somewhere in the back of Hanzo’s mind, he knew he should have put on more clothes, but even dressed like he was, he was comfortable as he cooked. The frilly blue apron he wore - a gag gift from Genji a few years back - covered just enough that he wasn’t worried about getting burned or splattered with anything, and the lacy thong was just a personal comfort; he didn’t need his junk hanging out while he cooked breakfast, after all.

He brought various ingredients out of the cabinets and fridge: a few slices of bacon for himself, a pack of sausage for Jesse, a carton of eggs, butter, milk, a loaf of bread, a box of grits, honey, and a jar of huckleberry jam; a giant southern-style breakfast to kick off their fourth anniversary with. He got to work on the grits first, adding honey and butter enough to satiate his husband’s sweet tooth as well as his own. He sprinkled a little bit of cinnamon in with it all, to give it a special hint of spice. Next, he turned on their stove and set a large pan on the biggest burner to heat, slapping more butter into it to prepare it for the next ingredient. Eight eggs found themselves cracked and scrambled in quick succession, and he sprinkled salt, pepper, cheese, and chopped potatoes into the eggy mixture to cook on a low heat while he focused on everything else.

The toast would go last, so he focused on the sausage and bacon, cooking them in separate pans on an equally low heat, waiting for Jesse to wake before he really let it heat up. He was so engrossed in his domestic tasks that he actually jumped when large, warm hands came to rest over his slim hips. After a few moments, Hanzo relaxed into the grip, resting the back of his head against Jesse’s chest and letting out a huge sigh of relief.

“Well good morning to you too, my love,” he breathed out, laughing lightly as he let his hands fall over Jesse’s.

“Mornin’, sweetpea,” he grumbled, voice still incredibly thick from recent slumber. His accent dripped off each syllable deliciously, making Hanzo’s mouth water as much as the food he was cooking did. “What’s all’a this?”

“I figured I would make us a big breakfast,” Hanzo answered smoothly, easily falling into the slow rocking rhythm Jesse had set for them, swaying gently back and forth. “For our anniversary, you know?”

“Mighty thoughtful a’ you,” he murmured, lips pressed to the frill at his husband’s shoulder. “Damn, y’even got my all my favourites! What more could a man ask for?” Jesse drawled, keeping up that steady rocking sway while his hands teased at the pretty blue lace at Hanzo’s hips. “Mmm, wait, I know what’s missin’, honey.”

“And what would that be?” Hanzo asked curiously, leaning forward to stir the foods and keep them from burning into place.

Jesse smiled to himself before snaking his hands backward, palms flat over Hanzo’s ass as he spread his cheeks and grabbed two generous handfuls. “Tell me there’ll be dessert,” he whispered huskily, straight into Hanzo’s ear. “A lil’ somethin’ special to really make the meal worth rememberin’, hmm?”

“Dessert before breakfast will spoil your appetite,” he half-moaned and half-chastised, pressing into the touch while rearranging the food once more. He set it all on an even lower heat, though, fully prepared to resume cooking after some... ‘morning exercise.’

“I beg to differ, sugar cube. I woke up a starvin’ man, and all this ain’t gonna cut it,” he rasped, slowly trailing kisses and nips down Hanzo’s neck, over his shoulders and down his back. He pointed to the food to emphasize himself. “Mm, but add you to the menu, too?” He made a light ‘tsk’ing noise against one of the knobs of Hanzo’s spine, smiling languidly against his warm skin. “Well, lets just say that’d be the best meal a’ my whole damn life. ‘Sides, peach pie, you look downright _delicious_ in these,” he purred, snapping the back of the thong against Hanzo’s skin. “Makes me wanna eat you right up.”

Hanzo was momentarily at a loss for words, tiny breathless sounds escaping his barely parted lips as Jesse slowly worked him, warming him up to the idea. He gripped the counter hard, and fought to concentrate. With the heat on this low, he’d hardly have to worry about burning the food, and the grits had quite some time before they’d be even close to done; why not indulge a little?

“By all means, take a bite,” he moaned, pressing his body more firmly against Jesse’s wandering lips.

McCree had made it to the base of his spine by the time that that breathy confirmation had fluttered into his ears, and that was all it took to have him nipping and licking at every inch available to him. He sucked lightly at the dimples above Hanzo’s ass, let his tongue wander toward his lover’s crack before he spread Hanzo’s cheeks wider and dipped his head lower. He lapped at the puckered flesh there, licking broad stripes over his entrance with the flat of his tongue as he held Hanzo’s hips still and got to work taking what he’d asked for.

One of Hanzo’s hands found its way to Jesse’s wild hair, fingers tangled within the unruly mess of wavy chocolate strands to ground himself and drag his husband closer. Umber irises lay hidden behind closed lids as Hanzo fell victim to the pleasure, his other hand coming up to rest at his mouth so that he could take a finger between his teeth and bite down on it to stifle his sounds. Jesse’s tongue was _doing_ things to him as it lapped incessantly at his hole, and he nearly cried out when it finally pushed inside, pressing at his walls and digging deeper with each passing second.

Jesse settled on his knees, prepared to do this for the long haul as he really got into it, sucking searing marks into the pale flesh of Hanzo’s inner thighs whenever he had to come up for air. The marks were, without fail, always accompanied by filthy words that had Hanzo blushing and moaning weakly over their slowly cooking meal.

“Goddamn, sugar, you taste so fucking _good,”_ praised Jesse, kneading at the globes of Hanzo’s ass as he spoke. “Wanna eat you out forever, Han, wanna taste you on my tongue all the time.”

“L-less talking, more of _this,”_ he demanded, waving his hips and glaring down at Jesse to the best of his ability.

“Will do, just gimme a’ quick sec,” he said, one hand fumbling around in a nearby cupboard. When he finally found what he was looking for, he let out a triumphant sound before settling back between his lover’s spread thighs.

Busy sex lives meant lots of lube in seemingly random places.

One slick finger joined Jesse’s tongue, helping to spread him open and stretch him. When he was met with little resistance, he added a second, scissoring them and crooking them deep inside Hanzo before spreading them wide to let his tongue in between them. Wet sounds filled the air alongside the lazy sizzle of sausage and bacon, the noises mixing together until Hanzo couldn’t differentiate between them anymore. The archer’s mind was in a haze, and Jesse’s mouth and fingers only served to push him deeper into that cloudy mindset.

McCree’s unoccupied hand walked around to the front of Hanzo’s body, wrapping around his cock to pump him in time with the movements of his tongue and fingers. Soon, he was working Hanzo over so well that the man had abandoned his pride, moaning loudly with each press of fingers at his prostate, each swipe of a greedy tongue at his walls. He was shaking already, thighs tensing and untensing with each pang of arousal that pumped through his body.

“Think you could come like this?” Jesse rumbled, fucking his fingers in and out of Hanzo at a merciless pace. “Think you could come just from my tongue and a few fingers, sweetheart?”

Hanzo couldn’t respond, could only nod furiously and moan for more. He was bent next to the stove, close enough to get warm from the burners, but not enough to get hurt. He spread his legs as far as he could, cocked his hips out to make it all even easier for his husband, and just let Jesse do as he wanted. He white-knuckled the counter as he panted, desperately sucking in little mouthfuls of air until his mind whited out and orgasm took him by surprise. He came all over the front of the oven, thick lines of white dripping down the sleek, black glass as Jesse milked him and fucked him through it.

By the time his mind came back to him, Jesse had stood up and was now just rocking them back and forth, much the same as he had been before. He felt Jesse’s length press into his hip and he began to turn so he could reciprocate, but Jesse stopped him.

“Wouldn’t want breakfast to go to waste,” he teased, nodding his head toward the stove with an expectant look. “‘Sides, who said I couldn’t get seconds?”

Their twin grins were all teeth and knowing, gleaming eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hOLy shIT I M baCk???  
> im gonna try and write all these chapters T O N I G H T, pray for my sorry ass


	23. Chai Lattes and Old Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 23: glasses kink/librarian hanzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh here, have this shit, its the best i could do without really knowing what i was doing XD

Jesse McCree hated to study, simple as that. He could never get into that whole ‘sit down for hours on end and _read’_ mindset, always more occupied with better things that could hold his interest far faster and for much longer. But the second he stepped foot on his new college campus, he knew that ‘just goin’ with the flow’ wouldn’t cut it anymore like it had up through high school.

Which was why he found himself in the library more often than not now, settled in with a large textbook, two chai lattes (he was given the second one for free when the barista accidentally botched someone else's drink) and the comfiest seat in the building. He was no stranger to the library, had been there at least three times a week for the better half of four months to study for his endless tests and terrifying mountains of homework. He grew to become friends with the student librarians there in record time, and even hung out with a few outside the confines of the quiet building.

One day, though, he met his best friend’s brother while he filled in for him; a beautiful man with dark eyes and high cheekbones sharp enough to cut. Every detail of the man was perfect, from the pierced bridge of his nose and his goddamn classy little glasses, to the shaved sides of his head and the elegant knot of a bun of long, dark hair.

He tried (and failed) to pay attention to his studying after seeing the man, but the longer Genji’s brother worked, the more Jesse found himself watching him dart around the isles of countless books. He did his job as if he worked there regularly, like he knew where everything should be; it was almost as if Genji had been filling in for _him,_ and not the other way around. On one of the odd times that Genji’s pretty brother passed him by, he offered him his extra drink, “No point in havin’ two, right?” He accepted it with a small smile as he pushed up his glasses and a quick but kind, “Thank you,” before he was off to keep tabs on the books and the people who needed them.

When Genji’s brother was there for the whole rest of the week that Jesse was, he brought it upon himself to try and befriend the man and introduce himself. He waited for a lull in walk-in’s and rearrangements before making his way over to the front desk, extra chai latte in hand and a hopefully-less-nervous-than-he-felt smile on his face.

“Howdy,” he greeted cheerfully, mentally smacking himself when he couldn’t think of anything smoother to say.

“Hello,” the man replied easily enough, dark eyes lifting from the page in his hands to watch Jesse over the rims of his glasses. “How can I help you?”

“Oh! Nah, don’t really need help with anythin’, just thought I’d say ‘hi’ since I see you around here all the time. That, n’ I thought you might maybe want somethin’ to drink?” Jesse offered hopefully, holding out the cup for him to take. “Name’s Jesse, by the way.”

“Oh, I know who you are. But thank you, Jesse,” he said, smiling before taking the cup. The glass in his frames glintedfor a second, flashing bright before becoming transparent once more. “My brother talks about you often. You’re good friends, right?”

“Yeah! We hang out all the time! But he never told me your name when he talked about you, only ever said ‘my brother.’ So I’m kinda flounderin’ for a name to put to that pretty face a’ yours that I’ve been seein’ so much of.” Lord, he really needed to stop coming off as desperately as he was.

“Hanzo,” he offered, a laugh behind the syllables. He took a sip of the drink cautiously before nodding and taking another, larger one. Jesse would deny it if someone said he watched the way Hanzo’s Adam’s apple bobbed around the mouthful. “You are as flirtatious as Genji told me,” he snickered, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“Guilty as charged,” he said, closing his eyes and raising his hands in defeat. “Can’t help it ‘round pretty people, y’all deserve all the compliments in the world ten-fold. But I can stop if it bugs ya, I know it can get t’be a lil’ much.”

“No, no, I like it,” he chuckled, practically glowing as he preened under the attention. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teased, taking another generous sip of his latte. There was something hidden in the subtle curve of his lips, but Jesse couldn’t put his finger on it right then.

“Everywhere?” Jesse asked, quirking a brow as he looked down at Hanzo, expression matching his. “Tell me that an’ I’ll feel obligated t’see what exactly “everywhere” entails, sugar cube.”

“Stick around after my shift, cowboy, and you might get what you ask for,” Hanzo said, low and haughty. “Although, you’ll actually have to flatter me to get there.”

Was that a challenge? That definitely _sounded_ like a challenge, and Jesse liked nothing more than to take on a challenge.

“Well, shucks, sweetpea, y’just hadda say so!” Jesse snorted, leaning over the table with a smile that was all teeth and southern charm, warmth in the honey brown depths of his eyes as he raked them over what he could see of Hanzo’s form.

“Well?” Hanzo asked, fixing him with an expectant gaze as the other man looked him over.

“Y’got these cute lil’ dimples,” he began, pointing to the spots they’d be in on his own face. “They only come out when y’smile, but when they do, it makes your whole face light up, makes you look awful sweet.” He winked for good measure before continuing. “And you got this tiny, itty-bitty beauty mark, right here,” he said, pointing just below his own right eye. “Darn thing disappears when you’re happy, gets caught up when your eyes close. Can’t say I mind though, if it means I’m hearin’ your gorgeous laugh.”

He had to admit, this was easier than he thought; the man was just so damn pretty, asking Jesse to compliment him was like asking him to recite the alphabet: easy as breathing. Besides, the flush that was steadily beginning to creep onto Hanzo’s cheeks was more than reward enough for his efforts.

“... Continue,” Hanzo choked out, hands steepled before his face to try and hide the blush. He watched Jesse with half lidded eyes, trying to see where he was going with this.

“Will do, pumpkin,” he rumbled, leaning just a bit closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of Hanzo’s body. “You're just about the sharpest man I’ve ever seen, y’know? All angles a’you just look so nice, sweeatpea, like a living marble statue, but even more handsome. Your lips are always in this lil’ pout that I’m honestly not sure you’re even tryin’ to do, but hell if it ain’t cute. You’ve got the prettiest damn eyes I’ve ever seen, darlin’, dark as chocolate and just as sweet. Your glasses don't even change that, if anything they make ‘em even more noticeable. Wanna get lost in ‘em sometimes, just see where they’ll take me, if you’ll let me.” He was whispering now, voice low and tone honeyed and dark, meant only for Hanzo’s blushing ears to hear. “You’ll let me, won’t you?”

Suddenly, Jesse found himself in a heated kiss, pulled over the counter by the collar of his flannel. He made a sound of surprise, followed by one of shock, and soon after, one of excitement as he pressed his lips back against Hanzo’s. Things only got better from there, Hanzo’s tongue pressing at the seam of Jesse’s lips, the piercing there a surprise that was not unwelcome in the slightest. They were both blushing hard, enough heat between them to have sweat beading at Jesse’s brow, and when they parted, they were both panting.

“You are coming with me,” Hanzo almost growled, ushering McCree into the lounge office behind a door that read ‘Employee Access Only.’ “I have my break now anyway, and I am not wasting another second out here when I could have you _now.”_

“And here I thought I’d be waitin’ till your shift was over,” Jesse wheezed, following Hanzo loyally.

When the door clicked shut behind them, the pseudo-cowboy had less than three seconds before he was being all but shoved into the wall next to the door, lips caught in another, deeper kiss. Jesse brought his hands to Hanzo’s hips, dragged them against his own and was delighted to find that the librarian was as excited as he was.

They wasted no time after that, the kiss growing in intensity until it was near bruising, and clothes were falling to the ground in record time; they didn’t have long, after all, Hanzo’s impatience gave them a limit to how long this could last. They stumbled over to the comfortable looking couch, clothed legs tangling and bare chests meeting. Hands touched all available skin, Jesse’s at Hanzo’s chest, Hanzo’s tangling in wild hair.

“We do not have long,” Hanzo rasped, undoing Jesse’s ridiculous belt to unzip his pants and finally touch him.

“Mm, I really wonder why that is,” he snorted, “it’s not like you were impatient or nothin’, is it?” He made quick work of Hanzo’s belt as well, tugging his jeans and briefs down to his thighs.

Hanzo groaned when he took both of their lengths in hand, and groaned again when Jesse stopped him.

 _"What is it, Jesse?”_ He hissed, glaring at him something fierce.

“I think this,” he said, taking a tiny packet of lube from his back pocket, “might make things just a lil’ easier, don’t’cha think?”

“You just... _had_ this in your pocket? Were you expecting this?”

“Hey, never hurts to be prepared,” he snickered, drizzling the warm liquid over their lengths.

When Hanzo wrapped his hand back around them, Jesse covered it with his own, and like that that they set a pace together. Hanzo leaned forward to quiet himself, face in Jesse’s neck as they rolled their hips. Each time they rubbed against each other, a low moan would creep from Jesse’s lips, deep and rumbling and everything Hanzo wanted to hear; the cowboy’s voice was something straight out of one of Hanzo’s dirtiest dreams.

“When this is over, w-we are going to my house and we are _continuing this,”_ Hanzo whispered, hips growing unsteady in their thrusts against Jesse’s cock.

“Sounds good t’me, sugar cube,” he choked out, upping the pace to bring them both closer.

Soon, McCree and Hanzo were rutting against each other fast and hard, pants and hushed moans filling what little space there was between them. Their rhythm ruined itself more often then not, but the blunders in pace only served to rub their heads together in  _evil_ ways that had them both biting down on their own hands to keep from crying out. Pre joined the mess of lube that slicked their hands, dripping onto Jesse's stomach and into his happy trail, but the cowboy couldn't have cared less, far too focused on the movements of their hips and hands to deal with the hassle of getting a little messy.

“You close yet, babe?”

Hanzo silently nodded, lips at the cowboy's neck to keep himself from crying out and receiving unwanted attention from the other patrons of the library. He tightened his hand around them, made the circle of his grip just that much more enjoyable to thrust into, and he felt Jesse shiver beneath him.

“Good, good, then cum for me, hun, c-cum _with_ me,” he rasped, so close he could almost cry. “Wanna hear you moan all pretty for me, c’mon baby, _please?”_

That did it for Hanzo. He came within seconds of Jesse’s plea, rocking shakily into their combined grips as thick droplets of white made it all the more slick. McCree followed soon after, painting his own stomach and mixing their combined spends in a mess of white on his skin.

They cleaned up quickly, redressing with speed that two people who just came really shouldn’t have had quite yet, before exiting the break room. Before they parted ways though, Hanzo dragged Jesse back down by his collar to whisper into his ear, “My shift’s over at six.”

Jesse had a long three hours ahead of him.

He was willing to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heL p  
> legit i had no clue how to write this one so i just... bullshat it and hoped for the best


	24. Speak Up, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 24: daddy kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the daddy kink is v light and im sorry  
> if you want more daddy kink, i have a fic in the works for later ;)))

“Now honey pie, I can’t hear you when you’re so quiet. Say it again so Daddy knows what you want, baby,” Jesse rumbled, rolling his hips up into Hanzo so  _ slowly _ that it put more strain on his own body than it did the archer's, thighs shaking with effort. But he didn’t care, kept the pace at that horrendously sluggish grind as Hanzo quaked and drooled above him. 

“I l-love,” he stuttered, “I love to r-ride Daddy’s cock,” he whimpered, small and breathless, uncharacteristic of his usually confident self. “But I want,  _ fuck, Daddy,  _ I want you to flip me over and make me f-feel even better.” When Hanzo got like this, it was as much a shock to him as it was to Jesse, but not unwanted on either end.

Sometimes Hanzo just needed to feel a little powerless.

They had been at this for nearly half an hour now, Jesse stopping more than once to make Hanzo speak up every time he fell silent. That had been the rule: if Hanzo kept up and voiced what he liked, what he wanted and when he wanted it, he’d get it. But if he went quiet or hid his moans, McCree would stop and wait for him to speak up again, ask for him to pipe up and say what he wanted to hear.

They’d had this kind of relationship for a few months now; it had all started when Hanzo whispered something under his breath while Jesse was bent over his back one night, fucking into him gently after a long day, and when he was prompted to repeat it, he wouldn’t, no matter how gently the cowboy asked. Then a week later, it happened again. Only that time, Hanzo had nearly shouted it to the heavens as he came, a two syllable word that had them in their current situation:

_ Daddy. _

After an admittedly awkward conversation, Jesse and Hanzo had come to a decision on how to add this new... aspect to their sex lives. Hanzo had told McCree that it just felt good to let go, to give Jesse power while he was “submissive to an extent.” He would never fully fall into subspace, there would be no huge display of power play, that just wasn't something Hanzo wanted; but he could beg and be spoiled as much as he wished, and Jesse was more than okay with it. Especially with a title as hot as  _ Daddy. _

“Oh honey, Daddy likes that idea,” Jesse rumbled, pulling out slowly to roll the two of them until Hanzo was pressed chest-down into the mattress, cheek flush with the sheets and ass presented to McCree perfectly. Jesse took two generous handfuls of the flesh, parting the cheeks and leaning forward to guide his cock back in, hissing as he did.

Hanzo moaned into the pillow, eyes closed and mouth open as Jesse filled him so perfectly. This had to be his favorite position, because like this, he could hear Jesse’s baritone voice directly in his ear, could feel his cock go deeper than before. He was already so close, but he never wanted it to end. McCree must’ve been able to sense that he was close to the edge, because he wrapped his flesh hand around his dripping cock and started to jerk him hard and fast, thrusting in at an equally quick pace.

“Wanna make you cum twice, sweetpea, wanna feel you lose it while Daddy pounds you senseless,” he rasped, lips touching Hanzo’s brightly blushing ear. “Can you do that, Han? Can you cum twice for Daddy?”

Those low, rumbling words had Hanzo nodding furiously as his body shook and tensed, white hot streaks of spend painting the soft sheets until the last of it was dribbling out over tan knuckles. Jesse made a pleased noise deep in his throat and kept going, thrusting in at the same harsh pace even when Hanzo began to whine; they both knew that the archer loved the overstimulation, and mere whining wouldn’t stop either of them.

“That’s it, babydoll,” Jesse purred, kissing and sucking searing marks into the skin of the back of his neck and below his jaw. “Let Daddy hear all those pretty lil’ noises.”

Hanzo completely let go then, every sound he’d held back in embarrassment flowing freely from his mouth and into the air, creating a symphony more beautiful than any Jesse could remember hearing. Whines and whispered, raspy words, breathless pleas for more, shaky inhales and exhales that rattled and broke on their ways in and out, keening moans that caught and stuttered in his throat before growing loud with lack of control.

“Daddy,  _ more,”  _ he groaned, voice muffled by soft, sweaty sheets and and the pillow next to his cheek. He hadn’t even had time to go flaccid, cock still hard in Jesse’s grip and slowly starting to drip once more. Jesse kept his pace, grinding deep on every other thrust, pulling back far enough that he almost slipped out before slamming back in. The creaking of the bed and the muted thump of the headboard connecting with the wall created the beat that Hanzo sang out to, the slap of skin on skin melting into the melody of his moans and cries for more, for faster, for Jesse- no, for  _ Daddy. _

McCree fucked Hanzo for what felt like  _ years,  _ the archer’s sense of time harshly skewed by the haze of pleasure and the fog of euphoria. However long it had actually been, it was long enough that Jesse was now a panting, groaning mess at his back, a clear indication of his mounting orgasm. Hanzo used what few shreds of clarity he still had to angle his hips down just right and clench his insides, forcing Jesse to ram into his prostate as well as make it that much tighter for the cowboy.

With a twin set of explosive moans, the two came nearly at the same time, Jesse’s hips jackrabbiting into Hanzo unevenly as he rode out his orgasm. Hanzo shook and shivered beneath him, messy and hot and satisfied. Jesse slumped over the archer, warm and comforting like a blanket.

They would move eventually, get clean and cuddle up beneath fresh sheets and fall asleep to mindless television and kisses stolen in the dark of their room and the warmth of their bed. But for now, they were content to just lay close and breathe the same air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMF: daddy ass mother fucker


	25. "I Love You, Jesse McCree"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 25: body worship  
> request: chubcree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got out of hand in the best of ways

Jesse, clad only in a soft pair of boxers, stood before the large full length mirror in the room he shared with his husband, staring at his reflection scathingly. After all the years he’d spent at Hanzo’s side, he could never see in himself what it possibly could have been that his gorgeous husband saw in him. He gave himself a long look, eyes narrowed and lips pulled down into a frown.

There was nothing ‘beautiful’ about him, in his mind. Sure, he had pretty, bright eyes and long lashes, a charming, crooked smile, endearing freckles, and his wild, wavy hair framed his face nicely if he combed it a little. But that was where he believed his good qualities ended. Everything else was a flaw, some more so than others. He hated his nose, how it hadn’t healed quite right after one too many fists to the face, hated how thick his eyebrows were and how he could never get them to cooperate, hated the crows feet at the corners of his eyes that scrunched when he laughed too hard or smiled too long, and hated just how tired he knew he looked if someone got too close.

He loathed the scars littering his form, the hideous proof of all his mistakes; bullet holes, knife wounds, stitches, burns and deep scratches. Sometimes he couldn’t even bring himself to look at his arm, at the disgusting mass of hard, shiny scar tissue that licked up his bicep and nearly met his shoulder in some places. He hated how much hair there was on him, how fuzzy his chest was and how it traveled down his body, past his stomach and below his waistband to come back out over his legs; how it was even on his forearm and how noticeable it all was.

And then his eyes landed on the parts he truly despised: his pudgy stomach and thick thighs. These were the two largest sources of his insecurities. He _hated_ to look at them, because it just reminded him of how he used to look, how he used to have abs and a toned body and nice muscles and how he wasn’t _fat_ back then. But now he was, and he saw it every day and he was so _sick of it._ What did Hanzo like about these parts of him? The pudge? The jiggle? What was there to love? He had to be lying to him; there was no way in hell that someone as perfect as Hanzo would want someone who weighed as much as he did, whose body sagged in spots and displayed rolls in others like his did, with thighs that rubbed unless he sat with his legs spread unreasonably wide and obvious, large stretch marks riddling his hips, upper thighs, and belly (there were even a few on his inner arms.)

He didn’t know how Hanzo wanted someone like him. He didn’t deserve to be next to someone as attractive and perfectly fit as his husband.

He’d gotten so lost in his dark thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed his husband had come to their room until pale hands came into view in the mirror; one over his hairy chest, right above his heart, and one at his stomach. He must’ve been on his tiptoes, because Jesse could see his dark eyes over his shoulder, watching him in the mirror with a calm expression.

"You’re quiter’n a mouse, anyone ever tell you that?” Jesse joked, grabbing the hand on his chest to bring it to his lips. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Hanzo noticed.

"I may have heard it once or twice,” he agreed, kissing Jesse’s bare, freckled shoulder. “You’ve been standing here for quite some time,” he noted, brows raised visibly in the glass of the mirror. He wasn’t lying; he’d been home for nearly a half an hour, and Jesse had been standing there before he’d gotten there and stayed there, glaring at himself meanly for twenty minutes. “Is something the matter, Jesse?”

Hanzo was too damn perceptive for his own good.

"Yeah, kinda,” he said lowly, letting Hanzo’s hand rest back over his heart. His pulse had picked up. He wondered if Hanzo could feel it.

He realized he was meant to elaborate when Hanzo simply blinked at him and waited. “I just... don’t get what you see in all’a this,” he mumbled, gesturing to his whole body. “I don’t... I... I’m not pretty or handsome like you are, Han, I don’t got nothin’ good goin’ for me. You deserve better than me.”

Strong hands tightened around Jesse’s body, hugging him close to Hanzo’s chest possessively. “That is not true,” he said, voice calm but eyes ablaze. “I could not ask for a better husband, Jesse McCree. You may not be your definition of ‘pretty,’ ‘handsome,’ or ‘beautiful,’ but you are _my_ definition of all of those things.”

"I don’t see it,” he whispered, eyes closed and brows furrowed. “I don’t see whatever version of me you must be seein’, Hanzo, but whoever it is, it ain’t me, because there’s nothin’ about me that you should like.” His fists were clenched at his sides, jaw tight and teeth grinding.

"Perhaps I should show you then,” Hanzo murmured against his skin, and there was nothing sexual in his words. “I have done you a disservice in not showing you what I see, my love, and I am going to remedy that.” His tone left no room for argument. “Come, I will run you a bath, and from there, I am going to take care of you, pamper, and love you so fiercely and thoroughly that you will be able to do nothing _but_ see the you that I do.”

Hanzo was already leading him to the bathroom, drawing the water and setting it to a comfortably hot temperature; even as warm as Jesse ran, he liked his baths and showers hot. He put a few drops of oil in the water and stirred it around with his fingers, the smell of maple and cinnamon light in the air.

“Do you want bubbles this time?” Hanzo asked, pointing to the cinnamon and clove scented bubble bar they’d gotten as a gift for Christmas from Genji (Zenyatta had gotten Hanzo a matching one that smelled of green tea and cucumber.)

"Bubbles sound nice t’me,” Jesse agreed, nodding vigorously.

Hanzo smiled brightly before getting to work, crumbling the whole bar into the bath as it filled with more hot water, red tinted bubbles forming as the water ran in lazy laps around the bath. He chuckled, because looking closely he could see gold glitter in the mass of happy little bubbles; Jesse would be positively glowing by the end, he was sure, and his own arms would be a golden, glittering mess. Fleetingly, he wondered if Soba and Udon would mind the glitter in his tattoo. Finally ready, he shut of the water and rid himself of his shirt, turning toward Jesse with an expectant look.

“S’a bit harder when you’re just _starin’_ at me, sugar,” Jesse chuckled, nervousness clear in his voice. His thumbs were hooked in the waistband of his underwear but he seemed frozen, unable to take off the boxers.

“Then allow me to help,” Hanzo said, a small smile on his face. He turned toward Jesse by swiveling on his knees, hands knocking Jesse’s away to help get the garment off. He hooked two fingers on each side of the elastic band, slowly rolling the fabric down his thighs, his calves, and with some maneuvering, off his body completely. “Come, my dear, let me take care of you,” he called softly, gesturing toward the pleasantly scented, steaming, bubble-infested water.

Jesse obeyed, stepping into the water with a pleased groan; the perfect temperature. He crouched down into the bubbles and then sank into the steamy bliss of the glittery bath, closing his eyes for a long moment. It was so quiet and serene that he almost forgot Hanzo was there, so when his husband's hands touched his arm with a bar of deep red soap that smelled strongly of cloves and nutmeg and a ridiculously soft washcloth, he jumped a little in surprise.

“Be calm, my Jesse, it’s just me,” he soothed, setting the soap and cloth aside for a moment when he suddenly realized something as bubbles popped against slate grey metal. “Will you let me take this for a little while?” Asked the archer, tapping the release locks on the side of his prosthetic lightly. “I wish to wash here, too, but if you would be more comfortable with it, that’s okay as well.”

Jesse mulled it over in his head for a moment, getting bubbles in his beard, and after a good long think he nodded. “I trust you,” he croaked. Why was his throat already so tight? What reason did his pulse have to jump so far?

Hanzo silently undid the locks, steam leaking in some place and machinery clicking and shifting as it disconnected from Jesse’s nerves. Discomfort crossed his husband’s face, but Hanzo knew it was more painful than he let on, if is own legs were anything to go by. As carefully as he was able, he took the heavy metal arm and set it beside him, fingers tracing the dented steel for the barest of moments before he was reaching for the soap and washcloth again.

Hanzo rubbed the bar of spiced soap first into Jesse’s chest, snorting when he had to part the sparkly bubbles to reach his husband’s body. Glittery bubbles found themselves sitting atop Jesse’s head in a silly imitation of his hat. Hanzo ran the washcloth over his chest, slowly washing away the sweat of his day before slathering more golden bubbles onto him with a grin. Soon, the red soap was under Jesse’s arms, and he was trying not to laugh as it tickled him. Hanzo payed special attention the mass of scars and angry red marks; Jesse’d had his prosthetic on for too long again. He massaged the area briefly, having plans for more later.

Soon, McCree was clean and smelling like a pan of freshly baked holiday cookies, warm and spicy and incredibly inviting.

“Wanna join me? Smells real nice, n’ the glitter’ll look real pretty on your ink,” Jesse offered, spreading his legs in invitation for Hanzo to sit.

“I suppose I could do with a bath,” he agreed, removing the rest of his clothing so he could settle in with Jesse. He sat between his thighs, rubbing patterns into the glittery skin idly as cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and something smokey filled his nose. He believed this was what heaven must’ve been.

Just as he was about to close his eyes and lean back, Jesse dumped a bunch of sudsy bath water over his head, getting glitter and bubbles in the long black strands much to Hanzo’s surprise.

“Jesse!” Hanzo snorted, closing his eyes before he could get spiced soap in them. Jesse soothed the water away with his hand, and soon Hanzo was a glittery mass leaning against and equally glittery chest.

The pair stayed in the bath together for a long time, quietly stealing kisses and rubbing their hands over each others bodies slowly. Eventually though, the water began to cool, and the bubbles began to deflate, so they got out. Hanzo toweled Jesse off lovingly, kissing his skin when it was dry. He toweled himself off too, and soon they were both glittering, clean men with smiles as wide as could be. Hanzo led him by the hand to their room, and what Jesse was greeted with made his throat close up and his heart stop.

Every surface had a candle with a rose next to it, each pair a different color, but every candle the same earthy scent. The bed was made, and there was a large, fluffy blanket on top of it with two bottles of massage lotion near the pillows. The lights had been turned off, leaving the room bathed in the warm glow of the plethora of candles. On the bedside table was a set of two glasses and a bottle of wine, with two small plates of simple snacks. Gentle music so quiet it was hardly there topped it all off.

“How did you...?” Jesse whispered, completely in awe. His hand went slack in Hanzo’s as he took everything in, completely at a loss for words.

“It does a man no good to reveal his powers,” Hanzo chuckled, intentionally vague. In truth, while Jesse had his eyes closed in the bath, Hanzo had shot Genji and Zenyatta a set of texts with instructions, and he’d told them that if they did this for him, he would do the same in a heartbeat if they asked it of him. It looked like they’d gone above and beyond; where had they gotten so many roses? “Which would you like first? The massage, or the snacks and wine?”

“I... Well shucks, honey, I don’t know! They both sound amazin’, and I’d love either one, so I guess you should pick?” Jesse couldn’t decide to save his life.

“Mmm... Snacks and wine it is, then! I’m a bit hungry anyway. Please, join me?” Hanzo asked, sitting with both plates, one extended toward his husband.

He smiled as Jesse took it all in; the plate was completely covered in little finger snacks, some sweet and some savory. Four tiny chocolate chip cookies, two kinds of crackers (one for tea, and by extension, lightly sweetened, and one for cheese and meat, with herbs on them,) thinly sliced salami and sausage, a bit of salmon, some cream cheese, a few small slices of cheddar and havarti, and two tiny cakes each. Hanzo uncorked the wine and poured each of them a glass of the deep red liquid, offering one to Jesse who took it gladly.

They ate and chatted sweetly, talking of everything and nothing together. Jesse tried (and failed) more than once to get Hanzo to tell him how he’d set this all up, and every time he asked, Hanzo would just smile and shake his head. “Some things are best left as surprises, my heart,” he’d say, and then they’d be right back to regular old conversation. Quite a few times, they would feed each other things from their plates, because there were subtle differences in the foods on them; where Jesse had German chocolate and angel food for his mini cakes, Hanzo had matcha and strawberry. If Hanzo had chicken sausage and mild salami, Jesse had chorizo seasoned pork sausage and spicy salami. Jesse had brown sugar tea crackers where Hanzo had honeyed ones, and they both had different kinds of herbal sprinklings on their secondary crackers.

Hanzo popped a tea cracker with cream cheese and a piece of chicken sausage on it into Jesse’s mouth, the sweet and salty flavors mixing with the neutral creaminess in a mouthwatering way. However, just as Hanzo was about to grab the last of his food for himself, Jesse caught his finger between his full lips, sucking a bit of the cream cheese away with hooded eyes. With his other hand, Hanzo brought his glass of wine to his lips and took a long drink from it, watching his husband as he gave his finger a _thorough_ cleaning.

“What was next, sweetpea?” Jesse rumbled, letting Hanzo’s finger slip free from his lips.

“I believe it was a massage,” answered Hanzo, downing the last his wine quickly. “Would you like that now, Jesse?”

“I would _love_ that now, Han.”

Hanzo nodded, setting aside their dishes to more fully face his husband without worrying about shattering glass or porcelain. He asked Jesse to lay chest-down on the bed, and while he waited for the cowboy to get comfortable, he warmed the lotion by setting it between his thighs.

This was the part Hanzo had been waiting for the most; during this massage, he could show Jesse every part of him that he loved (which, he’d soon find out, was every single part of him.) Once he was sure Jesse was finished moving, he sat on his lower back and began drizzling lotion across the scarred expanse of it. Setting the bottle aside, he spread the lotion around before slowly starting to apply pressure, beginning at the nape of his neck and increasing the pressure as he went down the length of his spine. Sometimes, Jesse’s spine would pop and he’d blush, but Hanzo would simply kiss the area before moving on. He worked the knots out of his back carefully, never lingering too long on one, but breaking them all up over time.

“I love you, you know,” Hanzo murmured, breaking up the last of the angriest of his knots. “I love you here,” he cooed, and then he pressed his fingers back up and down his spine, “here,” he moved to his shoulders, rubbing them lovingly, “here, too,” he breathed, light and caring as his hands slowly worked their way toward the scars that licked up Jesse’s bicep. “Perhaps especially here for now. You do not show this part of you enough love, so I will have to show it enough for both of us.”

Hanzo drizzled a little more lotion to the worst of the scarring, rubbing the unscented moisture into the tough flesh gently. He soothed away the soreness that came with multiple days of wearing the prosthetic, rubbed the tension and the redness out with steady hands to ease the pain that came with lack of self care. Jesse took in a shaky breath, unsteady and uneven as he exhaled. His breathing seemed to stop for a long time once Hanzo reached the tapered flesh where his arm ended, reducing swelling and pain with his fingers lovingly.

Hanzo had a feeling his lover would cry that night, but even the strongest of cowboys needed to cry sometimes, to weep and sob and _feel;_ Hanzo would be there to hold him through it all, no matter if there were tears or not.

He worked his way down Jesse’s body after that, pressing kisses to places he’d touch that made Jesse’s lower lip tremble and his skin burst out in goosebumps. He deserved every bit of affection that Hanzo could show him and then some, and this was the only way Hanzo could think to go about it. The archer prompted Jesse to turn over until he was flat on his back, and was met with teary amber eyes and a broken smile that faltered and shattered into a thousand pieces when Hanzo silently pressed a kiss to the center of his chest.

"I love you, Jesse McCree, all of you,” he murmured against his hairy chest, sitting up to reach for the lotion again. He drizzled it all over his torso and arms, kneeling by his side as he got to work. He began at his shoulders and neck, rolling the warm flesh between his hands and smoothing out more knots with the heels of his palms. He smoothed them over the muscles of his chest, easing any tension on his way, pressing kisses to the bigger scars in his path. Jesse trembled harder with each new kiss, each new place that Hanzo graced with gentle touches and lingering caresses. When he made it to Jesse’s stomach, he slowed down considerably, kneading at the softness there with such care that Jesse’s breathing became uneven. He pressed countless kisses to his belly, bent himself at the waist to rest his face against it and just... laid there, listening to his wet breathing and hugging himself closer with each hiccup. By the time Hanzo had finished with Jesse’s upper body, the man was crying silently with his forearm thrown over his eyes and had tears racing down to meet in his beard.

"Please, Jesse, don’t hide,” he pleaded, gently tugging his arm down. It went easily enough, and Jesse was left with wide, red-rimmed eyes full of tears and trembling lips that could hardly form words. “Handsome even when you cry,” whispered Hanzo, stroking his face with soft hands, thumbs wiping away the tears that came on the heels of his words. “Such a lovely, _beautiful_ man, Jesse, you know that, right? You must know that you are _gorgeous.”_

Jesse sobbed then, a wet, broken intake of air that shook when it filled his lungs and fell apart when he exhaled. He began to truly cry, fat tears streaming down his cheeks, voice unable to do anything other than sob, wheeze, and whisper broken versions of Hanzo’s name as if he were his holy deity, as if saying his name would solve his problems, bring him salvation, and make it stop _hurting._ He couldn’t stop saying Hanzo’s name after that, looking at him with the saddest eyes Hanzo had ever seen. It seemed to take all he had for him to turn over and fumble around with the drawer in their nightstand, and when Hanzo realized what McCree was reaching for, he settled him back against the mattress and reached into the drawer for him, pulling out an all-too-familiar bottle.

“Is this what you were trying to get?” Hanzo asked sweetly, rubbing Jesse’s cheek softly. The cowboy nodded and pressed his face into that hand, tears still flowing, but less intensely now. “On you or me?” He continued, shaking the bottle a tad to get Jesse’s attention. He pointed to himself with a shaky hand, whisky eyes large and pleading, _begging_ him without using words. “Are you sure?” Jesse nodded, leaned up on his hand and caught Hanzo in a deep, searing kiss full of raw emotion and words he couldn’t say through his tears. When the passionate meeting of lips and a little bit of tongue broke, Hanzo nodded and urged Jesse to lay back down, to relax and let him take care of everything.

He slicked up two fingers, but only started with one, pressing at the tight ring of muscle until it gave on its own. He moved slowly, using easy back-and-forth motions that had Jesse’s erratic breathing slowing down. When there was no resistance to just one finger, he added a second, rocking the pair in at the same leisurely pace and scissoring them occasionally. He bent down and kissed the center of Jesse’s chest as he stretched him, moved and pressed his lips to the meeting of his collarbones, up the center of his throat and over his chin to connect with his lips. The kiss was watery and messy, but Jesse needed it and Hanzo was more than willing to give.

“Please, Han?” Jesse croaked, watching him with watery eyes. He wanted more, was ready for more, _needed_ more; but Hanzo shushed him and kept going until again, there was no resistance. He added more lube to his fingers, and then slowly, _achingly_ slowly, added a third to the mix. Jesse gasped and his hand clenched in the sheets, not tight, but noticeably. Hanzo worked him with three fingers for a _long_ time, long enough that Jesse was a whiny mess of putty in Hanzo’s hands.

"B-baby, please, I can’t take no more a’ that, g-gonna pop before you even slick yourself up if you don’t stop,” he warned, thrusting back onto Hanzo’s fingers the whole time he spoke.

Hanzo nodded and sat back on his haunches, preparing to drizzle more lube over himself when he was caught by the sight of Jesse spread out so perfectly before him. A fine blush had settled over his skin, tinting his already warm skin in even warmer hues. His hair was splayed over the pillow in every direction, wild chestnut locks framing his face and fanning out around him prettily. His eyes, though wet and red-rimmed, were bright in the dim of the room; breathtaking amber peering at him from beneath hooded lids. His cock lay heavy and hard against the crease of his thigh, pre drooling out onto his own skin slowly. His chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths to keep himself from tipping, and Hanzo was mesmerized by the pattern: inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hol- hiccup, exhale. Inhale, hold, exha- “Hanzo, you’re starin’ again.”

"Oh!” He said, a little too loudly as he was snapped from his trance. “My apologies, you were too lovely not to watch.” Jesse flushed at that, and used the minute distraction to slick himself up and kneel between his thick thighs, which he rubbed soothingly. “How do you want to do this, Jesse?”

"Could you maybe... spoon up behind me? I know you’re shorter’n I am n’ all that, but it feels... it feels awful nice to be in your arms,” Jesse murmured, growing quieter and quieter until the last of his request was barely audible.

“Of course, my love,” he replied, moving so that he was laying behind Jesse on his left side with his husband pressed to his chest as close as humanly possible. He pressed his lips against one of Jesse’s shoulders, made sure he could feel the smile on his face as he got them aligned. And then, with a final whisper of, “I love you, my beautiful Jesse McCree,” he began to press inside until he was completely sheathed within Jesse’s heat.

McCree let out a long, strung out moan, the sound carrying for the entire time it took for Hanzo to press himself fully inside. He reached his flesh hand behind him, holding Hanzo’s hair gently to ground himself. If there was a way for Jesse to get any closer to Hanzo than he already was, he didn’t know what it was, because he felt as though he were _one_ with his husband in that moment. Neither of them were going to last very long; Jesse wouldn’t because he’d been riding on the edge for the past ten minutes while Hanzo had thoroughly stretched him, and Hanzo wouldn’t because of the sounds Jesse made and the way he clenched around his length so perfectly.

“I love every inch of you, Jesse,” he rasped, shallowly rocking his hips. There was no need to go fast, not tonight. “I love your face, your crooked smile and your even more crooked nose, your eyelashes and the honeyed whiskey that makes up your irises, the flecks of chocolate and gold in their depths, and the freckles that someone could only see if they got close enough.” When Jesse’s hand tightened in his hair, he took it as a cue to continue.

It was hard to ignore the trembling, but he knew Jesse needed to cry it out.

“I love how warm you are, how easy it is to lay with you and sleep, how safe you make me feel just by holding me close,” he punctuated the words by holding Jesse closer to his body and grinding just a bit deeper. “I love your scars, Jesse, how unique they all are, the st-stories they tell,” he stammered, pressing a searing kiss to Jesse’s shoulder to calm himself. “I love your arm, Jesse, the one you hate so violently. Because it changed you irreversibly, and yet here you are, strong and handsome and doing things for good instead of bad. I love it because the scars wrap so intricately, like art that was left unfinished but only because it looked nicer that way. I love it because you won't love it for yourself. I love it so that you don’t have to.”

The sobs returned, and Hanzo’s heart broke a little bit but he kept going, kept his words flowing and his hips moving.

“I love you here,” he whispered into Jesse’s deep red ear, fingers rubbing his belly softly. “I love you here _so much_ , because it shows that you can be strong and still be thick. I love you here because there is more to hug, more to kiss and cuddle on. I love you here because here is where you let me lay down, here is where you play with my hair and tell me that I am beautiful, here is where you let me pass out after a long night of tears and hysterics. I love you here because here is comforting and soft and _you,_ and I love you.”

His hand moved lower still, caressing Jesse’s thighs reverently. “I love your thighs because of how _strong_ they are, for the power hidden here,” he said, gripping one tightly, “I love them because of the figure they give you, the curves you have and the way they compliment you. I love your thighs because they look delicious, Jesse, they look so nice when I mark them up,” he groaned, kneading at the flesh in his hand. Jesse whimpered and pushed back a little harder, meeting Hanzo’s slow, deep thrusts each time. That roaming hand abandoned Jesse’s thigh, skirting inward until he met silky, dripping, hot flesh that made his husband’s breath hitch and his insides ripple.

“I love your cock, Jesse, how thick it is, the _piercings,_ how it curves perfectly to lay on those thighs I adore so much,” he whispered, raspy and full of lust. The pace didn't change. “I love how much you drool for me here, how wet you get for me, my love, how easily I can tell how my words affect you.” He was grinding down on every single thrust now, panting lightly. Jesse was no better off, thrusting into Hanzo’s fingers and back onto his dick, moving between both. “And you must already know that I love you _here,”_ he moaned, rolling his hips as hard and as deep as he could, causing Jesse to cry out and shake in his hold. He throbbed in Hanzo’s hand, a generous amount of pre dripping out onto the plush blanket beneath them.

 _"I love everything about you, Jesse,”_ he continued, stroking him harder, thrusting harder, but keeping that _slow fucking pace._ “I,” he grunted, thrusting roughly and hitting that bundle of nerves that made Jesse scream, “ _love,”_ he groaned, hitting it again before sucking a deep mark into the back of his neck, **_“you,”_ ** he growled, possessive and raw. With twin hisses, they both came within seconds of each other, panting and crying out one another's names.

They passed out like that, Hanzo having enough clarity left to slide out, but he was gone a moment later, clinging to Jesse in his sleep. When morning rolled around, Hanzo had brought Jesse breakfast, and the cowboy woke up to hash browns and pancakes and a generous side of bacon, a fresh pot of coffee, plenty of kisses, and a whispered, “I love you.”


	26. Earned It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 26: lingerie  
> request: continuation of chapter 19  
> (it continues from chapter 19 with a few tweaks but nothing major)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for the lateness  
> im not a particular fan of this chapter namely because i had written it over the span of months and months, so my style changed as i wrote it, but here it is  
> i think most of my works will be late after this because i will be participating in the mchanzo bigbang and writing for fun while i sort out some life things  
> the inspo for hanzo's lingerie can be found [here,](http://raviolitheif.tumblr.com/post/163377657192/pocmodels-ebonee-davis-by-erez-sabag) [here,](http://raviolitheif.tumblr.com/post/162088689862/axngelic-princess-how-beautiful-is-it-ahhh) [here,](https://68.media.tumblr.com/ce15838d72a845b22adf87da5fc722dc/tumblr_otvqtw8WXh1wt6uado1_500.jpg) and [here](https://68.media.tumblr.com/6869bc94d314af7760a7b58192560923/tumblr_otvehq0ams1v9eugno1_1280.jpg)

_ They knew.  _

Hanzo was unsure of  _ how  _ they knew who his favorite model was, but they  _ knew.  _

_ ‘McCree’  _ knew. 

That email, short and to the point, was salvation in electronic form. Hanzo wasn’t stupid; declining an offer like that would be like ignoring a dream come true, and boy did he ever  _ dream.  _ Hanzo sat staring disbelievingly at his phone, huddled up in the corner of his modest bed with its rumpled, frumpy sheets and its thin blanket with fraying stitches and slightly moth-eaten edges. The electric glow that his phone let off lit up his face, highlighting the shock on his features in stark contrast to the pitch black of his small room, making his skin appear pale and tinted ever-so-slightly blue. With all the subtlety of a stampede of raging bison he fell face-first into his pillow and let out a scream that was so loud it scared off his cat, even muffled by layers of feathers and cotton as it was. 

There was only one answer of course, Hanzo knew this the moment he finished reading the email the first time. And the second, and the third. As soon as he was done feeding Ryu, who mewed happily in excitement before tucking into her food, Hanzo set about finding the address of Overwatch’s main office. It was relatively close, a twenty-five minute bus drive from his job. His schedule was busy for quite some time, but he had a few free days in the next month where he’d be able to squeeze it in after he went to the gym a few blocks from his workplace. 

He had ended up putting it off for two whole months, and the only reason he decided to even bother with it again was because he’d gotten another email asking if he had received the first, or if his lack of a response had been his way of tastefully declining the offer. In that time, the site had upgraded all the way to the highest quality videos he’d seen. It had quickly become one of the most high class porn sites Hanzo had ever even heard about, let alone had the bravery to view or the funds to access. 

He decided he’d go to the gym like he had planned two months prior, that way he’d get both a shower and the best tone to his body for any pictures that they decided to take on his first visit, if any. He’d be lying if he said the prospect of being ogled by this mysterious ‘McCree’ didn’t make him do a few more reps than usual. 

Sweaty and a little bit sore, Hanzo showered as quickly as humanly possible while still managing to actually get himself clean. The other gym patrons shot him worried glances, but otherwise minded their own business, something Hanzo was silently grateful for. He dressed just as quickly, shoving his dirty gym clothes into a small side bag before he briskly exited the establishment, tying his hair up as he approached his bus stop. He sat on the crowded bus in the very back where he found a single empty seat, bag held firmly at his side the whole way. Trust was not a regular habit of his, and he exercised it even more sparingly when using public transportation of any kind.

The whole ride there Hanzo couldn’t seem to really keep himself fully calm, leg bouncing rapid-fire, fingers drumming restlessly against his tense thigh. He had brought his best clothes, both attractive and easy to remove. He could only hope he met the agency's standards. He had fixed his hair in his reflection more times than he cared to admit, deciding to sit on his hands to keep from doing it one more time lest he go bald. Just as his resolve began to run thin and his hand crept ever so slowly back toward his already immaculate hair, the bus stopped and the driver announced that it was his street. He snatched his hand away and got off of the bus, schooling his expression from one of mild panic to one of an easy confidence that he did not truly possess.

The building was more massive than it had appeared in the pictures on Google. It seemed more like a corporate office than it did the sexual modeling agency that it truly was, and immediately Hanzo’s nerves returned full force. It suddenly hit him that these people  _ really  _ weren’t amateurs, that they really knew what they were doing and that they did it well. Hanzo, at best, took decent, if not grainy photos that he posted to Instagram and got maybe thirty likes on if he was lucky. The differences between himself and this agency were countless, and he felt very small very quickly.

He shook his head and cleared his mind; now was not the time to second guess himself. They had come looking for  _ him _ , not the other way around. Obviously they saw something in him, or they wouldn’t have offered him a position.

At least, he certainly hoped that was the case.

With a final shake of his head, Hanzo opened the door to the building and entered before he could psych himself out of it. Immediately he was met with the aroma of expensive cologne and some kind of light, herbal incense that he found rather pleasing and infinitely soothing. The main lobby harbored a lounge fitted with plush couches and soft pillows. A large coffee table sat in the middle of all of them piled with old magazines and new ones alike, all featuring the models of Overwatch. There were two large flat screen televisions, one playing a slideshow featuring the top-rated models, the other playing a random reality show on cable.

Hanzo cast another glance about the spacious lobby and flushed in embarrassment when his second sweep of the room proved to show him that he was standing there gawking and making a fool of himself in front of the front desk staff. A bored looking woman with painted lips and a manicure that could kill leveled him with a flat and expectant look, her thick black hair shifting behind her when she tilted her head as a way of beckoning him forward. The woman next to her was less bored but equally as expectant, her deep brown gaze locking with Hanzo’s shocked one. As best as he was able, Hanzo collected himself and made his way toward the desk, becoming increasingly unsettled the closer he got; compared to them, he may as well have been dressed in rags and loose thread. If these were the desk workers, Hanzo was afraid to think of how well dressed the other employees must be.

He wasn't dressed  _ badly _ , but his jeans were starting to feel far too informal. Perhaps he should have worn a suit instead.

Tucking his insecurity away once more, Hanzo finally made it to the desk where the two women were waiting for him. A quick once over told Hanzo that their names were Amélie and Satya, names he decided he’d need to commit to memory if he was going to be working there from then on.

“How can we help you?” Amélie asked, her accent surprising but pleasing. “I hate to be so blunt, as I’ve only just met you, but you do not seem to be our...  _ typical _ kind of clientele.”

Hanzo blinked a few times before her words processed in his mind, and he when they clicked, he had to fight not to flush all over again. She was right of course, he looked severely out of place in his jeans and converse compared to the luxurious air the entire building gave off.  

“Ah, my apologies. The email had no instructions, only that I arrive when it was convenient for me,” he offered, hoping that she would understand. He shoved his hand in his pocket and fiddled with the small bits of metal there anxiously, feeling naked without them in their rightful places. Maybe Overwatch needed a model with piercings, but for the sake of a first time shoot, he had taken them out.

“Email?” Amélie parroted, one immaculate brow arched high.

“Are you by any chance Mr. Shimada?” Asked the other woman, her hand inching forward just slightly to get Hanzo’s attention.

“Yes. I was summoned by Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison a couple months back? They offered me a position that I would have been a fool to decline, so, here I am. I know I have come in rather late, is now a bad time? I can come back later.” Hanzo was already ready to speed walk away, feeling like he'd already messed up somehow even though he hadn't even made it past the lobby.

“Now is actually perfect,” Satya replied coolly, dark eyes sliding away to focus on her screen momentarily while she typed. “We have been told to give you a VIP pass as well as an escort, so please, wait a moment and you will be on your way shortly.” There was a small smile on her lips. For some reason, that helped Hanzo relax.

“Welcome to Overwatch, Mr. Shimada,” Amélie said, a minuscule smile on her own face. She handed him a black card with gold detailing at the same moment that an enormous man came out of an elevator. A man that Hanzo  _ recognized _ . “Reinhardt, this is Mr. Shimada. Please, show him around.”

“Hello!” The man said, his voice loud and jovial as he offered his hand to the stunned Hanzo. He took it and was shocked to find that his fingers didn’t crack in Reinhardt’s strong grip. “You will fit right in! Follow me!” He exclaimed, clearly excited as he ushered Hanzo back behind the front desk and toward the elevators he’d come down. As Hanzo followed, he had to actively try to remain calm. He’d seen this man nearly  _ naked  _ before, and now he was standing right behind him? The world was cruel.

They stopped in front of the last doors, the light above it off. The large man pressed the call button and moments later they were standing inside, leaving Hanzo’s eyes to bug out at the sheer number of buttons on the display.

“Don’t worry my friend! We only use half of this building, do not look so intimidated.” Reinhardt laughed loudly, the sound almost deafening as he clapped Hanzo on the back for good measure. “I would show you every floor but it would take too long. You will have to explore for yourself! Today we will just go to the dressing and show rooms, okay? Jack and Gabe’s office is on the same floor,” he explained, pressing the button for the fifth floor. They were up in record time, the automated doors sliding open before Hanzo could think of how many rooms and offices the building had.

He followed Reinhardt closely, taking note of everything the man told him for future reference. He knew where the bathrooms and the break rooms were by the time they made it to the first of many dressing rooms. Hanzo found that they weren't so much  _ rooms _ as they were room-sized  _ closets _ . Countless outfits hung from railings near the walls, accessories lying neatly on tables all over the room. Dressers dotted the area, no doubt holding some of the skimpier pieces. There were racks with curtains to provide privacy. One entire wall was a mirror, a row of chairs and nightstands sitting before it as a makeshift but not unsightly makeup station.

Reinhardt let Hanzo wander while he went to find Jack and Gabriel, confident he wouldn't get lost. While Reinhardt was gone, Hanzo went about looking at all the unique styles in that room alone. There were articles of high fashion clothing and low end costumes alike, and the mix gave the place a bit of a homier, more comfortable feeling. After a while he got bored of that room, opting to peek into the other dressing rooms while he waited. While roaming one of the others, he stumbled upon a set of bottoms that seemed... oddly familiar. He lifted them and unfolded them, and upon closer inspection he realized he was holding a pair of chaps. They were much too big to have any hope of fitting  _ him,  _ but he recalled them fitting a certain cowboy unfairly well.

Before Hanzo could have any hope of delving further into his memories and perhaps even conjuring up a fantasy or two, Reinhardt came into the room with two men close behind him chittering quietly to one another. When they bothered to look up, Hanzo had to try yet again to keep his cool and not point out that he’d seen at least one of them naked before. The blonde of the pair of them was a treat of sorts in the eyes of many patrons of the site, his pictures always explicit and always quite expensive. Hanzo didn’t recognize the other man, but he had a feeling he’d seen those hands before when skipping over Jack’s profile.

“I see you’ve already found McCree’s station,” the blonde noted, motioning toward the chaps held loosely in his hands. “He’ll be here soon, if you wanted to meet him. In the meantime we can discuss the terms of your new job, if you still want it. I’m Jack, by the way,” he said, offering Hanzo his hand. He took it after he set the leather down, relieved when it didn't feel like his hand would crumble off in Jack’s easy grip.

“Gabriel,” the other man said simply, nodding his greeting to Hanzo who nodded back. “I’m just gonna cut to the chase here, Hanzo, we have a demand for someone who fits your description eerily well, but no one to supply it. If you take the job, you won't be dealing with the bullshit that our average starter employees do. No mandatory camshows, no set weekly or monthly quota, no interest increase, none of that. We know our clients want you, so we don't need to test how you'll do.

“What I’m saying is you’ll be starting out in our highest position, right alongside our top models like Reinhardt here, Lúcio, and McCree. You’ll be priority.” Gabriel tapped Jack’s shoulder to spur the blonde on.

“This also means you will be getting the same pay as any of them plus whatever you make in tips if you decide to do shows or private shoots. Today is technically just a trial run, but anything you make from this shoot will immediately go to you, so that you can see for yourself how much your work will make you,” Jack elaborated, and the longer he spoke, the more Hanzo had to make sure he wasn't just dreaming. He pinched himself for good measure, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Jack who laughed and shook his head minutely.

“This seems too good to be true. What is the catch?” Hanzo asked cautiously, crossing his arms over his chest.

“There isn’t one,” Jack responded simply. “We have a demand for someone who literally fits your description from the greying in your hair to the set of your jaw, and here you are,” he admitted with a flourish of his arms in Hanzo’s direction. “We want you, and we are willing to go all out if it means we have you on our team.”

“So, you game?” Gabriel asked, head cocked and mouth a straight line. Hanzo found holding eye contact to be mildly disconcerting.

“I am,” Hanzo said with a nod, uncrossing his arms.

“Then consider yourself hired,” Gabriel said with a smirk, reaching his arm out to shake Hanzo’s hand. “There will be paperwork but it's nothing we can't deal with later. As a bonafide model, we want you to do a shoot. Jack and I will be next door, we want you in there in fifteen to do your trial run.”

“Feel free to use any of the clothes or accessories,” Jack added as he headed off with Gabe.

“I will be in the lunchroom if you need me!” Reinhardt boomed, patting Hanzo heartily on the back once more before making his way back toward the elevators. He realized too late that he hadn’t told Hanzo what floor the lunchroom was on.

Hanzo stood dumbfounded in the middle of the changing room, almost unable to believe everything that happened. He had just been signed on as one of Overwatch’s premium models on the spot, and he was going to be receiving all the money from this coming shoot. It was better than a dream come true, it was an absolute miracle!

His phone vibrated and he snapped himself out of his own mind, unwilling to waste time that he could be spending getting changed. He tossed his phone onto a nearby side table, certain he’d check it before he went to do his makeup. He darted back to the first room he’d been shown, having already scoped out a rather lovely set of lingerie that simply begged him to put it on. He scurried out after retrieving it, scoping out a few more dressing rooms for something to wear over the delicate nightwear. Hanzo dressed quickly, triple checking himself in the mirror before he settled down in a seat and took out his phone, curious as to who texted him.

It was his brother, who he knew he explicitly told not to bug him for this very job opportunity. His brows went up in shock at the message on his screen though, completely counteracting any annoyance he previously felt. 

**Genji - 3:21:**

_ you know, word spreads fast here _

_ i knew you got a job, but why didnt you tell me you got a job at overwatch?! you secretive little man! i want to do your makeup while i wring all the juicy details out of you, tell me what room youre in! _

 

**Me - 3:26:**

_ You work here? Why did you not tell me? Genji, what the fuck.  _

 

**Genji - 3:26:**

_ tell me what room you grumpy jerk! ill explain then _

 

**Me - 3:27:**

_ Fine. I am in the room where “McCree’s” clothes seem to be. You have a lot of explaining to do. I have ten minutes left, you had better hurry. Gabriel does not seem all that patient.  _

 

**Genji - 3:27:**

_ >:3c _

Hanzo sighed heavily and set his phone down, rubbing his temples as he buttoned up the last of his shirt from his spot in the chair. He had chosen something simple to cover what he had hidden underneath, a silken blue shirt with fine golden designs woven in and comfortable, form fitting slacks. The soft fabric felt wonderful against his skin, taking some of the edge off of his mind. What was Genji doing here? His brother always had been secretive of his job, always saying he was a model, but never saying where or showing him any of his shoots. How had he never seen him on the website? He had so many questions for his brother, and he wasn’t sure he even had time for them all.  

Before Hanzo could burst a vessel trying to wrap his mind around everything himself, Genji burst through the door to the changing room, out of breath and grinning wildly. His neon green hair was sticking in every direction and it took everything Hanzo had not to bark out a laugh as Genji darted forward and into the chair next to Hanzo’s own.

“Long time no see, brother,” Genji wheezed, snatching up a nearby water bottle and taking a generous gulp from its contents. Hanzo tried not cringe at the fact that that could have been anyone’s bottle, and that Genji just drank from it without even batting an eye.

“It has been a while, yes,” Hanzo agreed, fishing out his eyeliner from the bag he had brought from the gym. Genji immediately tsked at him and took it from his hands, producing a bag full of different colors of much better quality. “So, do you care to explain why you never told me you worked here?”

“What color are you wearing?” Genji asked, effectively avoiding the question as he began sifting through the bag in his lap.

“I am quite obviously wearing blue,” Hanzo replied with a bit of a bite. Had Genji not bothered looking at him?

“No, no I mean what color are you wearing? Under all that,” Genji said with a vague gesture to Hanzo’s outfit.

“Oh,” Hanzo said dumbly. He blinked and coughed out a strained, “Black and gold.”

“Trying to impress someone?” Genji snickered, winking at Hanzo as he grabbed a golden eyeliner and some black shadow.

“No,” he said far too quickly, making Genji grin up at him evilly. “Maybe,” he corrected himself, avoiding eye contact. “That is beside the point, Genji, tell me why you never told me you worked here,” he demanded, closing his eyes when Genji prompted him to.

“Would you have told me that  _ you  _ were working here?” He hummed, applying gold to Hanzo’s lids. Hanzo tried hard not to wince. “Exactly. Funny how fate has dropped us both here,” he chuckled, albeit grimly. “If I had known you were looking, I’d have told you to drop by sooner, honestly.”

“How have I not seen you on the site in the past?”

“Honestly? Pure dumb luck. I think we should just both be glad that it didn’t happen.”

“Agreed.” Hanzo said flatly, unwilling to imagine Genji in any kind of compromising setting.

“Please tell me that you do not still live in those shitty apartments,” he said suddenly, holding Hanzo’s jaw a little firmer than necessary. He was finished with the eyeliner, and was now applying a small amount of shadow.

“And If I was?” Hanzo asked back, arching a brow with his eyes still closed.

“If you were, I’d have to slap you,” Genji said, all seriousness.

“Ah, then I most certainly do not still live in those apartments. Definitely not,” he said, a wry smile on his lips.

“Brother...”

“Would you look the time! I have a shoot to go do. Thank you for doing my makeup, Genji, but I must go,” Hanzo blurted suddenly. He stood quickly and was out the door before Genji had even finished closing the eyeshadow container. His heart was pounding in his ears as he walked into the photoshooting room, almost certain that he knew exactly where that conversation was going to go had he let Genji talk any longer.

He would not burden Genji. Not again.

Hanzo was snapped out of his spiraling thoughts by a strong hand resting on his shoulder. He looked up, expecting Gabriel or Jack, but saw no one instead. He whipped his head around, about to protest having a stranger touching him so familiarly, but his words died in his mouth and his voice caught in his throat in some pathetic form a squeak. ‘McCree’ was standing there, hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, watching him with a friendly expression on his face that only fell slightly when he was met with Hanzo’s glare. He was all easy smiles and warm eyes, sun kissed skin and oaken hair. He was taller than Hanzo had thought, tall enough that he had to look up to meet his eyes, and he was broad, filled out and thick in all the right spots.

It took every ounce of Hanzo’s willpower not to faint on the spot. His cold glare fell into an expression of shock and mild panic that he swallowed down and replaced with what he hoped was an at least slightly friendly smile. ‘McCree’ beamed at him and let his hand fall, instead offering it out for a handshake.

“Pleased t’meet ya, Mr. Shimada,” he greeted, his voice all bright light and curling smoke that had Hanzo about ready to keel over dead. “The name’s McCree, but you can call me Jesse,” he offered with a wink and a tilt of his hat. And there it was, there was that damned genuine smile that had made Hanzo fall head over heels in the first place.

Hanzo didn’t think he’d ever see it person, and now that he was, he was prepared for the sweet release of death to take him. Nothing could make the moment better.

“He’ll be your partner today,” Jack was sure to pipe in, making Hanzo choke the second he took Jesse’s hand. He shook it numbly as his head swam and he was sure he was blushing something fierce.

He had died, he was sure of it. This was heaven and Hanzo was dead.

“Sweetheart, if y’get any redder than that I’m gonna get real worried,” Jesse said with an uncertain laugh, shaking Hanzo’s hand before lightly tapping his bicep to get him back on track. “I know this is a lot, but I get the feelin’ you can handle it just fine. You've got twice the looks of anyone here and honestly? I'm real glad they told me it was you who donated to me so much.”

Hanzo simply nodded with a blush and slowly inched over toward the desk holding multiple new bottles of water. He stole one and drank deeply from it in hopes of calming himself down, and to his surprise, it worked. He set the nearly empty bottle down and faced Gabriel, Jack, and Jesse, now certain he would make it through this alive.

“So, you’ll be doing a few solo shoots to warm you up,” Gabriel announced, taking his spot in a seat near a desk covered in monitors. “Jack will introduce props if he thinks they’ll look good. They won’t be cheesy or offensive, we wanna compliment your look, not ruin it. After we think you’ve got the hang of it, we’ll have Jesse join you. Think you can handle it?” 

“I can,” Hanzo nodded, approaching the set as Gabriel spoke.

“Good, then let’s start,” Gabriel said with a sly smirk, and the photoshoot began. True to Gabe’s word, they started out simple: natural poses with all of his clothes on, practice with expressions and angles that worked well with Hanzo’s facial structure and overall look, finding what he really wanted to convey in his photos. The first twenty minutes or so of the shoot were dedicated to finding Hanzo’s Overwatch persona of sorts, exaggerating what he already had going for him in subtle ways that made him look like perfection incarnate on camera.

Soon, buttons were coming undone and gold was revealing itself as he laid on a bed, and Hanzo swore he could feel Jesse’s eyes burning holes through his body. Hanzo’s tie hung limply from his fingertips over the edge of the bed, but when he felt Jesse’s gaze wander, he had trouble keeping his fingers relaxed, nails digging into the silk tie.

“Relax,” Jack called, then asked him to change positions. He heard Jesse chuckle and it made Hanzo calm down more than Jack’s command ever could have. He let the fabric nearly fall from his grasp as a few more buttons came undone from his shirt, revealing glimmering lace and elegant black lines criss crossing his body.

The longer he was there, the less embarrassed he felt to be doing it. He fell into a certain headspace as time passed, felt himself grow comfortable even as clothing began to slip from his frame. By the time the belt on his pants came undone and the zipper was down, he wanted to show off and was honestly slightly exasperated with Jack when the man continued to take pictures with the garment still on. Feeling Jesse’s eyes on him only intensified his desire to put the lingerie beneath the slacks on display, and he could have kissed Jack’s boots when he finally told Hanzo that he could take the pants off.

The gasp he heard from Jesse’s direction was the biggest ego booster Hanzo could have asked for, and he shot the man a suggestive sideways glance just to watch him blush and avert his gaze.

“There! That’s perfect, hold that expression,” Gabriel said suddenly, telling Jack a few things that went over Hanzo’s head as he stared at Jesse like he was told. He wondered how he looked to the other model right now, draped in flowing layers of sheer black lace with intricately embroidered cherry blossoms, golden straps and accessories accenting all the best parts of his body. He had even added his piercings to the mix, and paired with the stellar makeup Genji had done for him, he almost looked ethereal. No wonder Jesse seemed to be in awe, unable to do anything but twist his hair nervously between his fingers and rake his eyes up and down Hanzo’s frame with a bitten lip.

“Hanzo, lick your lips and hood your eyes for us,” Gabriel instructed, taking his seat at the monitors once more. Jesse gulped and Hanzo watched the movement of his Adam’s apple like a hawk as he did as he was told, painted lids falling to half mast and tongue slowly coming out to wet his lower lip. He had a feeling he knew where Jack and Gabe wanted this to go, so he slowly began to lift his hips from the bed, back arching and chest puffing out to create a wanton, hungry look that was all aimed solely at McCree. One ringed hand sluggishly traced the line of his own stomach up to his chest, the golden rings glimmering in the gentle lighting of the room.

When Hanzo began to hold his other hand out toward Jesse, that was when it seemed the other man had had enough of standing around aimlessly. He shot Gabe a single warning look before he was approaching Hanzo, shedding his clothing as he approached. The clicking and shuttering of cameras fell to two sets of deaf ears, both models’ attentions focused entirely on one another. The material for the site practically made itself as the two met, Jesse’s hands colliding with the bed before dragging over the expensive comforter to frame black-clad hips. In a show of strength, Jesse kneeled and dragged Hanzo down toward the foot of the bed, inky black waves of hair caressing the pillow as he followed. Hungry eyes the color of warm whiskey burned into endless umber, making Hanzo bite his lip and rock his hips just so. The illusion that they were alone broke quickly when Jesse opened his mouth, although the mood was certainly not ruined. 

“How explicit can we get, boss?” Jesse asked loudly, eyes still trained on Hanzo.

“You know what, the fact that you even had to ask that means that we’ll just leave and let the cameras roll on their own. Jack, set up a few stationaries and lets fucking leave,” Gabriel replied with a resigned air about his voice and no small amount of mild disgust. Both Hanzo and Jesse chuckled at that. Jack begrudgingly did as he was told, antsy to leave already. By the time he was done, he and Gabe were practically sprinting to save themselves from what was happening on the bed.

“Anyone ever tell you gold’s you’re color?” Jesse rasped, spreading Hanzo’s thighs and hiking each of his legs over his shoulders. His fingers continued to rub firm circles into Hanzo’s hips, pressing the lace into the flesh there in a manner that was sure to leave imprints.

“Perhaps once or twice,” came Hanzo’s cocky response, the smile evident in his voice. It was wiped off of his face rather quickly when Jesse leaned down and licked a line over his clothed crotch, tongue tracing him from base to tip until he was completely hard in the tight black underwear. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a tease?” He parroted with a mock accent, canting his hips upward with a groan when Jesse leaned away.

“Once or twice,” he snickered, crawling up Hanzo’s body until they were face to face, Hanzo’s legs on either side of Jesse’s hips. “Mind helpin’ a man out?” He asked, taking one of Hanzo’s hands and placing it at his belt with a dirty grin and a glimmer in his eyes. Hanzo simply nodded and got to work, quickly undoing Jesse’s belt before snaking his hand down. To his surprise, he met nothing but skin, something that made him blush and Jesse moan lightly into the blankets by Hanzo’s head.

Words evaded them both as Jesse let his weight rest over Hanzo’s frame, jeans long since tossed to the floor. Jesse’s length rubbed against Hanzo’s clothed one and the silken feel made them both groan in appreciation. Jesse made an experimental rut forward, and when he was met with nothing but enthusiasm, he did it again and again until Hanzo’s stocking clad thighs were clenching around him and his legs were locked behind Jesse’s back at the ankle.

Soon, Hanzo was rutting back, grinding against Jesse as he bit his lip to hold back his tiny sounds of encouragement. He hadn’t been touched by someone else in quite some time, but Jesse didn’t have to know that so long as he kept his mouth shut.

“Wanna hear you, honey,” Jesse whispered into Hanzo’s ear, effectively crushing the man’s plan of staying quiet.

“Earn it,” Hanzo said back, voice seconds from cracking over a whine. But he had caught himself just in time, cutting his voice before the sound could be made.

Jesse growled low in his throat and thrust up against Hanzo particularly roughly, forcing a moan to escape his lips. “Oh sweetpea, you really shouldn’t’ve said that,” he whispered, voice as calm as an ocean before a hurricane. “I’m gonna have you beggin’ for me by the time I’m done with you,” he hissed, teeth grazing the skin over Hanzo’s pulse as he ground against him more firmly, rubbing their lengths together achingly slowly. “N’ just because you decided to be a cocky lil’  _ fuck,” _ he growled, low voice all velvet and ice as he tweaked a lace covered nipple, “I’m not even gonna take your pretty lil’ outfit off. I’m gonna make you cream your panties for me, Hanzo. I’m gonna make you make a big ol’ mess of yourself, and when you’re done shakin’ and moanin’ my name like a grade A whore, I’ll ask you if I’ve “earned it.””

God, Hanzo could have come right then and there. His underwear were already sticking to him, a large wet spot forming on the sheer fabric. He shivered in Jesse’s hold when he felt the man smirk against his neck, and found it hard to concentrate on anything other than the hands roving all over his chest and thighs.

Strong fingers twisted in the blanket as Jesse’s mouth traveled down his neck and to his chest, tongue expertly flicking out over lace and gold until he was met with a dusky, perky nipple straining against the fabric. He brought the nub into his mouth, sucking and nipping at it while he rolled its twin between his fingers, teasing Hanzo until the man’s back was arching and lifting off the bed. He switched sides, bringing the same attention to the left. By the time he was satisfied with his work, Hanzo was panting and whispering mindless little things, asking Jesse for anything to relieve him. The wet spot had gotten worse, smearing pearlescent droplets of pre against Jesse and relieving some of the friction between them as he rutted and bucked fruitlessly.

“Mm, what’s that?” Jesse hummed meanly, tweaking a nipple a little harder than necessary.

“Please, Jesse, please I need more,” Hanzo repeated, voice half broken and half muffled against Jesse’s neck. He pressed weak, desperate kisses to any available skin, littering Jesse’s throat with little love bites.

“I already told you how this is gonna happen, honey bunch. You’re comin’ in your pretty lil’ panties or not at all.” Jesse, evil, merciful Jesse leaned away with a cheshire grin on his lips and eased Hanzo onto his stomach, a pillow propped under his hips to elevate him slightly. He rutted up against Hanzo’s ass, a cruel mockery of what he knew Hanzo really wanted. Hanzo pressed himself closer, desperate to feel more in any way, practically crying in his hopes to entice Jesse into giving in and taking the lingerie  _ off. _

“Jesse, Jesse  _ please,”  _ Hanzo begged, “No more, I can’t take it anymore, _ please.” _

Hanzo’s pleading was met with silence that was broken by his own desperate moaning as one of Jesse’s hands snuck down and began to rub at Hanzo’s dripping cock through the lace. He upped the pace of his thrusting, the lace on Hanzo’s ass feeling like heaven against his own cock. He chuckled darkly into Hanzo’s ear, biting down on the poor man’s pulse as his hips sped up.

That was the last straw for Hanzo, who came shortly after with a broken shout of Jesse’s name and a series of spasms that sent Jesse over the edge, too. They continued to rut against one another as they rode their orgasms together, chasing any fleeting pleasure they could until it began to turn into overstimulation. Minutes passed until finally, Hanzo stopped chanting Jesse’s name. He collapsed fully and heavily against the bed, Jesse’s weight following a short minute later.

“So, buttercup, have I earned it?”

Hanzo groaned and the cameras clicked off, out of film.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be the last chapter in this fic  
> if you wanna help me out, please consider commissioning me, or if a written work isnt what youre after but you still want to help me, i have a [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/hanzosaltmada)


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